


In Circles of You and Me

by theweightofmywords



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, American AU, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Miscommunication, No explicit smut, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: Louis pulls Harry closer by the belt loops. Harry could feel his breath warm against his neck as he brushes his lips against his skin. “You know... I don’t care if you kiss other people.”Harry smiles as he feels Louis’ stubble scratch against his neck. “I know you don’t, but-”He stifles a moan as Louis bites down gently on the soft surface of his skin. “You can kiss other people too-”Louis pauses to look at him pointedly. “I know I can.”“Well, have you?” Harry asks, his brows furrowed.“What’s it to you?” Louis retorts with a smirk. “You’re the one I’m kissing now.”--Or, Louis and Harry keep running into each other at parties. It doesn't mean anything, until it does.





	In Circles of You and Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodgirlfaith (boomersoonerash)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomersoonerash/gifts).



> Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction. I don't own these characters, please don't share this with any of the people mentioned in this fic. 
> 
> Title taken from the masterpiece should've-won-a-Grammy "Where Do Broken Hearts Go?" 
> 
> This fic is set in the US, but I kept their original hometown names, because I wanted it to feel like it could be set anywhere in the country. Thank you for reading!

**Early September**

The cups of cheap beer and vodka-laced fruit punch sloshes around in Harry’s stomach as he walks down the rickety stairs of the crowded house. The basement air smells damp with beer, as sweaty bodies grind on each other and people wait in line to refill their plastic cups. It’s the first week of fall semester, but the summer heat has yet to dissipate completely. It’s hot and humid, the air thick and heady with potential. The thrill of possibility fills Harry’s chest.

It’s the beginning of Harry’s freshman year of college. He feels bright-eyed as he enthusiastically agrees to take shots at three in the afternoon with Niall, his roommate, or when he agrees to go to a party the night before his swim test for the crew team. As he looks around the crowded basement, he wonders if tonight will be the night he has his first college hook-up. He had always been more of the monogamous type, but he had pledged earlier that summer to try to make the most of his college experience, at least for his first semester.

“We should try to hook up with people from every dorm,” Niall had conspired earlier that afternoon when they had taken whiskey shots just because they could.

“Are you serious?” Harry laughed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’m sort of kidding, but also… as long as no one’s getting hurt, and everyone’s on board with it, why not?” Niall explained, holding his hands in front of him as if he was envisioning some future innovation and not the plan of an adventurous college student.

“Alright, man,” Harry said, as he shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but sure. Why the hell not?”

They had about two more shots apiece before stumbling widely across the campus sidewalks to the dining hall in search of fulfilling their drunk appetites.

Now, at the party, Harry can barely move as he shoulders his way to where he sees his roommate by the keg. Although they had just met a few days ago, they had quickly become good friends in the way that only happens when strangers are shoved into novel situations together. Although the rest of the people on his dormitory floor seemed fun and sociable, Niall was the one who had somehow heard about all the parties happening on and around campus that night. He had dragged Harry with him earlier that night with promises that he had found the “best place to be tonight,” and so far, he hadn’t disappointed.

“Niall!” he shouts over the blasting bass of the music.

The bespectacled brunette pumps his arms in the air when he sees Harry approach. “Haz! C’mere, hold my legs up for the keg stand!”

“This is your third one!”

“Third one’s the charm, right?” Niall grins. “C’mon. Bressie will help you lift me!”

Harry glances at the tall muscled boy across from him.

“Why the fuck not,” Harry shrugs, placing his cup on top of the keg. He and the boy he assumes is named Bressie lift Niall at the thighs while Niall grips the sides of the keg. A girl with platinum blonde hair holds the nozzle up before bringing it to Niall’s mouth.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Do it, Bebe!” Niall shouts.

Harry and Bressie are holding him by the ankles as they start counting the seconds. A crowd forms around them and joins in, chanting steadily. Niall is guzzling the beer down with concentrated fervor, his eyes squeezed shut. They’re up to twenty when the music suddenly cuts off and a loud voice booms at the top of the stairs.

“Cops!”

Harry drops Niall unceremoniously as his heart starts pounding. He looks around frantically as the crowd starts to push and shove, making their way for the stairs.

“Shit! Niall, we gotta go!” he shouts, reaching blindly for his roommate’s arm. He begins weaving through the crowd, tugging his friend behind him.

“Uh, I’m not Niall,” someone says. The voice is scratchy yet smooth, and it makes Harry stops in his tracks.

 _Definitely not Niall,_ Harry realizes. He turns around, and it feels like everyone around them has frozen.

“Niall’s my roommate,” Harry sputters, the crowd around them dispersing quickly.

“Seems like he’s gone without you,” he grins, looking around at the chaotic situation. “I lost mine too. Bebe must’ve ran without me, that little shit.”

The boy is smiling up at him with an amused smirk, his blue eyes shining with mirth. He glances down at Harry’s grip on his forearm before he waves him forward with his other hand. “Well, c’mon then. The po-po’s arrived!”

Harry blinks and is jarred back into action. “Right! We gotta go-”

As he starts moving, someone pushes past them, jostling the other boy into Harry’s side.

“Shit, my shoe!” the boy shouts, as he starts looking frantically at the floor around him. “I lost my shoe!”

Harry glances down to see the boy’s bare left foot, the other one covered with a black Adidas sneaker. People all around them are desperately rushing towards the stairs, afraid to get caught drinking underage.

“Shit! Uh,” Harry starts, before he’s bumped into again by another person fleeing the party. “Here, just hop on!”

Harry crouches down slightly and gestures towards his back. He’ll probably regret carrying the boy up the stairs tomorrow, when his back and legs are aching, but in that moment, it’s the only thing he can think to do. The boy looks at him as if he has three heads before he hops on, his hands clinging to Harry’s chest as his legs tighten around his waist. Harry begins the ascent, holding him tightly by the back of his thighs.

“I’m Louis, by the way,” the boy says into Harry’s ear as they approach the top of the stairs. Harry is nearly out of breath as he gets to the back door of the frat house, but he turns his head slightly and smiles.

“I’m Harry.”

He manages to make it to the chain-link fence separating the yard from the park behind it before he sets Louis down on the grass. He runs a hand through his hair as he tries to catch his breath. He wonders how he expects to manage surviving crew team practices if he can barely carry the smaller boy for less than five minutes.

“I can help you over the fence,” he offers, despite his winded breath.

Louis rolls his eyes before he jumps up and grabs onto the top of the fence. Swinging his legs up, he hoists himself over the top before jumping down.

“I’m good,” he teased. “Thanks, though.”

Harry’s face turns pink as his hands grab onto the fence as he stutters.

“I just… you know, just… I was just trying to help.”

Louis’ face softens and he reaches through the fence to brush his fingers against Harry’s.

“I know. You’ve been nothing but helpful so far.”

Harry shrugs bashfully.

“I’m sorry about your shoe.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault, Curly. Now,” Louis says, his lips curving into a smile, “hop on over and walk me home?”

Something about the boy makes Harry feel wild, like he would do anything to have those smiling eyes staring back at him. He can’t recall a time he’s ever hopped a fence more quickly than at that moment.

He bumps into Louis as he lands, but he manages to right both of them in time. His hands grip Louis by the shoulders as he smiles in apology.

“You clumsy thing,” Louis murmurs. He steps closer until they are chest to chest. Harry knows they should probably start running back to campus, but it’s like he can’t breathe or think-- not when he’s got this boy in front of him, staring up at him with large pupils and parted lips.

Louis leans his head up and his lips brush against Harry’s jaw. Dizzy with the night, Harry tilts his head, and their lips meet.

The kiss tastes of sugary sweet punch and malty beer, and when Harry breathes in, he can smell smoke and heat and sweat. He can see the flashing police lights through his closed eyes, but he doesn’t want to stop.

 _This is it_ , he thinks as he leans into the kiss some more, the feel of this random boy’s lips against his sending a shiver down his spine. _This is what college is all about._

Louis pulls away first, his eyes glazed over. He glances quickly to the side before his lips turn down.

“We should run,” he says, grabbing at Harry’s hand.

Before Harry could agree, they are taking off through the field. Louis throws off his other shoe and runs barefoot through the dewy grass, glancing over at Harry every once in awhile with bright and wild eyes. Harry looks over his shoulder, feeling both thrilled and terrified that the cops will catch them and haul them in for being under the influence while underage. He imagines the two of them being taken away in a cop car, their lives ruined indefinitely. But with Louis hooting and howling at the night sky, the image suddenly seems less scary and more surreal, and by the time they make it to the sidewalk on the other side, they’re laughing with their hands still locked together.

“Hey,” Louis breathes, pulling Harry closer. He rubs his thumb gently across the dimple in Harry’s cheek. “C’mere.”

Harry feels Louis’ smile against his own as they kiss again, and again, and again, and again.

 

**Mid-September**

 

“It’s too cold to go outside like this,” Harry laments, staring at the trees outside his window blowing in the wind.

“The party’s theme is ‘Anything But Clothes,’ Haz! You can’t show up with clothes on,” Niall retorts.

From where he sits on his dorm bed, he can see his dormmates walking around in various stages of undress. Some are covered in bedsheets, while others have opted to use cardboard boxes to strategically cover themselves. His favorite had been someone’s dress made completely out of duct tape, though he winced when he thought of how difficult it would be to take off.

Harry looks down at his outfit. His plain white bedsheet is wrapped around him in a toga. Between crew practice and classes, he barely had time to think of an innovative costume. He shivers as another gust of wind rattles the windows of the old dormitory. He feels cold already, and they haven’t even left their dorm yet.

“Technically,” Harry begins, “if I wore a blanket on top of this-”

“You’re _not_ showing up wearing a blanket!”

“Niall,” Harry whines. “I’m fuckin’ freezing.”

“That’s it. We’re doing shots!” Niall announces, clapping his hands as he jumps up from his bed. He is shirtless, with only a large pool float to cover his hips. He opens a drawer and pulls out a rolled up pair of sweatpants. Going into the corner of the room, out of reach from the roving resident assistant’s eyes, he reaches within the pants and pulls out a bottle of cheap vodka.

Harry cringes as he thinks about the hangover he suffered the last time he indulged in vodka shots with his seemingly indestructible roommate. It is only late September, but he has already lost some of that starry-eyed freshman curiosity. He has experienced his limits and has had to live with the consequences of partying so hard- namely, brutal hangovers that last for two days straight.

As if he can read the hesitation in his mind, Niall interrupts his thoughts.

“It’ll warm you up,” he reassures him, pouring him a shot.

Harry stares at the unseasonably cold September temperature on his phone’s weather app. He begins rationalizing the decision to do shots with Niall. The vodka would definitely make him feel warm and toasty during their walk to the party, and if he drinks in his dorm, maybe he won’t have to spend as much time in the line waiting for cheap beer. He doesn’t have practice in the morning for once, and he reasons he could pace himself to avoid a hangover.

Shrugging, he picks up the overflowing shot glass.

“Bottoms up!” he exclaims, raising it in the direction of Niall’s equally full shot glass.

Four shots later, they are stumbling with flushed cheeks down to the lobby of their dorm, their bodies warmed by the alcohol coursing through their systems. Harry feels slightly ridiculous as he walks to the off-campus house in nothing but a sheer bedsheet, boxers, and the sneakers on his feet, but he feels less awkward when he notices other small crowds of scantily-clad students heading in the same direction.

“Who’s hosting this party, anyway?” he asks, adjusting the strap of his toga.

“I think the rugby team,” Niall replies, his high-tops squeaking as he walks. “Heard their parties are legendary.”

A few minutes later, they approach an old house on a corner lot. It looks still and empty, until Harry notices bright lights flashing from the basement. It’s then that he hears the muted thump of the bass and sees people sneaking through the back door.

“This is it, I guess?” Niall ventures. He begins walking towards the door, Harry following closely behind. A boy with a droll expression sits on steps outside of the backdoor. He’s slouched against the railing, appearing bored and much more sober than Harry or Niall.

“If you’re gonna piss, go inside. We don’t want people all over our lawn, or else the cops will come. Cups are inside,” he intones, gesturing lazily with his thumb to the door behind him.

“Uh, thanks, man,” Niall replies awkwardly as they both walk quickly up the short flight of stairs.

As he nudges the door open, Harry is hit with warm air and the din of people shouting over loud music. A large crowd fills the kitchen and adjoining dining room, where a game of beer pong is in session. He would have never guessed that the house was filled with partygoers from the outside. Harry notices twin mattresses resting against the windows, realizing that they serve as rudimentary soundproofing while also keeping people outside from peering in.

Niall shoves a red plastic cup in his hand before announcing that he is going to sign them up for beer pong. Harry nods affirmatively in response as he looks around for a keg. Meandering through the crowd, his eyes scan the room. Dancing in the middle of the room, wearing caution tape and very little else, is Louis.

Louis’ eyes close as he throws his head back, the colorful lights flashing from the DJ table washing him in hues of blues and greens. He raises his arms as he twists and turns his hips in rhythm with the song that is blasting through the speakers. Sweat covers his forehead and chest, and his fringe is flung wildly off of his face in every direction. He looks primal.

Suddenly, Harry wishes he had on more than a flimsy sheet. Just as he is about to try and find a bathroom to douse his head in cold water, Louis opens his eyes.

Harry isn’t sure how much Louis remembers. He had woken up the morning after their first meeting with a hangover and spotty memories of the night before. He remembered playing beer pong with Niall and dancing poorly amidst a crowd of people. He remembered smoking weed outside with a group of his floor mates who had insisted he join them. He remembered waiting in an endless line for the bathroom before he decided to just go out to the side of the house and piss there. He remembered walking to the basement to try to find Niall again, and he remembered the cops breaking up the party.

And he remembered Louis, with his bare feet and blue eyes, as they ran through the field. He remembered the slide of his lips, the feel of his arms around him.

Their eyes lock as Louis lowers his arms to his sides. Harry is starting to wonder nervously if Louis remembers him… but then Louis smiles.

Harry bites his lip as he watches Louis walk towards him. He’s frantically trying to think of what to say to him, but then Louis veers to the side of the room. He glances over his shoulder at Harry as he puts his hand on a door. Raising his eyebrow in a silent question, Louis opens the door and slips inside. Harry looks around to see if maybe Louis was looking at someone else, but everyone around him is occupied with the party. Gripping his plastic cup in his hands, he walks towards the door with slow steps that belie his racing heart. Looking around him once more, he opens the door and is faced with a dark closet.

Before any confusion can set in, a hand reaches out and tugs him into the small space. It’s a tight squeeze as they stand inches apart, surrounded by jackets and coats. Harry can feel the heat emanating from Louis’ skin, and even though he can feel the heat rising up the back of his neck from being in close quarters surrounded by warm coats, he steps closer.

“Hey,” Louis murmurs.

“Hi,” Harry whispers.

“It’s Louis.”

“I remember.”

Louis breathes out a laugh. “That’s good. Was hoping you did.”

“Did you think I’d just follow a random stranger into a closet?” Harry smiles.

“Last time I saw you, _I_ was a random stranger,” Louis points out.

“That’s true,” Harry mumbles, grinning shyly. “You’re not random anymore though.”

Harry can’t see Louis in the dark, so he reaches forward. His fumbling hands meet Louis’ arm, and as he lowers his arm, Louis reaches out and grabs his fingers. He doesn’t let go.

“A toga?” Louis teases, his thumb brushing the back of Harry’s hand. “Very creative.”

“Not everyone can pull off caution tape,” Harry shoots back defensively. As he thinks about how the caution tape wraps tightly around Louis’ stomach and his hips, his head starts to spin with the image of what might lie beneath.

“So you think I’m pulling it off?” Louis asks, his hands grabbing onto Harry’s hips. Even though it’s dark and he knows Louis can’t see him, Harry nods. It’s all he can do, given the limited amount of blood going to his brain.

“If you want,” Louis whispers, bringing his lips to Harry’s jaw, “You can pull it off me.”

So, Harry does.

 

**Early October**

 

“I was hoping,” Harry gasps, “I’d see you here.”

The sheets feel hot against his bare skin as Louis moves to straddle him. He can hear people chatting outside in the hallway, the music from downstairs a distant boom. Louis dips his head down to kiss him, as Harry’s hands fly to grip his hips, sinking lower and lower.

“Did you miss me?” Louis breathes, the smile evident in his voice. “How long’s it been? A week? Maybe two?”

His teeth graze Harry’s neck. Harry knows he’ll probably leave a mark, but with his inhibitions lowered by the alcohol-laced punch and the boy in his arms, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Too fucking long,” Harry whimpers, as Louis’s lips brush against his chest. He glances down to see Louis kissing his butterfly tattoo. Louis looks up with hooded eyes before he nuzzles his laurel tattoo with his nose.

“Want me to return the favor from last time?” Louis murmurs as he keeps nosing down the trail of hair leading to the waistband of Harry’s pants. Harry’s skin heats up as he remembers the last time they met, the feel of the hard floor under his knees as he knelt in that cramped, dark closet still fresh in Harry’s memory.

“You don’t have to,” Harry chokes, though he prays that Louis will. A crowd of people are laughing and talking loudly in the hallway, just a few feet away. He looks over at the door and hopes that Louis remembered to lock it.

“I know I don’t _have_ to do anything,” Louis replies. Harry feels cold air followed by the hot heat of Louis’ mouth, as Louis lowers the waistband of his boxers. “I just want to,” he adds, a moment later.

Harry grips the sheets and squeezes his eyes shut. He knows that if he looks down, he’ll be done for, and he wants this to last. It’s as he’s mumbling words and phrases of praise, his hands entwined in Louis’ hair, that he hears a loud crash.

“Are you fucking kidding me?"

A girl is standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

“Are you _seriously_ having sex in my bed?” she shrieks.

Harry reaches for a pillow to cover up, while Louis scrambles to sit up at the foot of the bed. His face is bright red as he fixes his mussed hair and glances at Harry with barely-concealed mirth in his eyes.

“We’ll… uh… we’ll be going now,” Harry stutters, pulling his shirt on. He wills his erection to go down as he shoves it back into his jeans, cursing his decision to wear the tightest pair he owned.

“So sorry about that,” Louis says casually, patting the girl on the shoulder. He grabs Harry’s hand as they walk past the girl, who is still standing frozen with a shocked look on her face. Harry snorts back a laugh as the absurdity of the situation sinks in.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry mutters, covering his face in the hand not currently being occupied by Louis’. Louis giggles into Harry’s shoulder.

“Could’ve been worse,” he shrugs. “We could’ve been doing other things.”

Harry’s pants-situation only gets worse. “Other things?” he stammers.

Louis grins mischievously and squeezes his hand before he lets go. “I’m getting another drink. Want one?”

Harry nods, his mind still stuck on what other things he and Louis could do. They’ve fumbled around on a few occasions by this point, seeming to run into each other nearly every weekend. Other than what he knows about Louis from their rushed times together behind trees on their way back to Louis' house, in dark closets a foot away from beer pong matches, and now in a sorority girl’s bedroom, he knows very little about the man. He wonders what he’s studying, where he lives, where he’s from. As he watches Louis twist his way through the throngs of people, he realizes that he doesn’t even know his phone number.

And yet, with as little information that Harry has on Louis, he knows he’d do anything he asks him to do. He starts following Louis.

“Want to just get out of here?” he asks, leaning down towards Louis’ ear as he grips Louis’ hips from behind. Louis turns around, his eyebrow quirked.

“ _Harold_!” Louis replies, in feigned scandalization.

“I mean… we don’t have to, but… ” Harry shrugs as his voice trails off, feeling disproportionately shy, considering what they had just been doing.

Louis laces his fingers into the hairs at the base of Harry’s neck before pulling him down for a kiss.

“We don’t _have_ to,” he whispers against his mouth. “But do you _want_ to?”

Harry tries to answer with another kiss, his brain seemingly ineffective whenever he is this close to Louis, but Louis turns his head. Harry, trying to chase his lips, ends up pouting.

“Don’t pout,” Louis chides, despite the smile on his face. “Do you really want to?”

Harry feels like he can’t catch his breath as he paws at the hem of Louis’ black tee. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Want to.”

“How many drinks have you had?” Louis’ tone is less teasing than it was a moment ago, and he is studying Harry’s face intently.

“Three. My last one was… like, an hour ago,” Harry replies. “I’m good. What about you?”

“I had just gotten here when I ran into you,” Louis admits. “I had a beer or two pre-gaming before I walked here though.”

“So…”

“So….” Louis repeats, smirking in response.

“Let’s go,” Harry decides, grabbing his hand and walking determinedly towards the door.

It takes them twice as long as it should to make it back to Louis’ house, but only because Harry can’t seem to stop kissing him. And a few hours later, the same pull that Harry feels towards Louis still hasn’t gone away.

“You are insatiable,” Louis giggles against Harry’s mouth before it trails down his neck and along his shoulders. “Aren’t you tired?”

Harry shakes his head. His body is flushed pink and covered with slowly-cooling sweat as he lays beside Louis in his bed. He covers Louis’ tattoos with his mouth, sucking on the skin slowly, knowing it will leave marks. The thought of Louis waking up and seeing them dot the length of his body makes the hairs on his arms stand up, shivering with the thought that Louis will remember this, remember him.

“Oh my god,” Louis breathes, his hands weaving through Harry’s hair as Harry continues his descent. As his fingers drifts lower between Louis’ legs, Harry looks up to see him shaking his head as he bites his lip.

“No?” he murmurs, kissing the skin below his belly button.

“I’m a little sore, to be honest,” he winces, leaning up onto his elbows, his knees closing around Harry’s body.

Harry moves back up the bed before flopping beside him, fighting back the grin that is threatening to take over his face.

“Don’t be cocky,” Louis retorts, slapping his side with the back of his hand.

“Too late for that,” Harry laughs, nudging him with his elbow as he wags his eyebrows.

Louis groans as he covers his face with his hands. “Alright, get out of my bed,” he says loudly, shooing him. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”

“I am,” Harry replies, turning onto his side to stare at Louis. "I'm ridiculous for you." 

Louis catches him staring at him, and his cheeks turn a pale peach that Harry wants to devour. He rolls his eyes before turning onto his side to mirror Harry.

As they face each other, Louis says quietly, “So, tell me about yourself, Harry.”

Harry runs his fingers along the dip of Louis’ torso as he speaks.

“Well, I’m Harry,” he begins, giggling.

“Oh, really? Wasn’t sure of your name,” Louis rolls his eyes fondly before Harry continues, swatting gently at Louis’ side.

“I’m from Holmes Chapel. I’m majoring in history, for now… I live in the towers, third floor. I’ve got a sister, she goes to school in Chicago,” Harry rambles quietly before he shrugs bashfully. “I don’t know. I never know what to say.”

“History major, for now?” Louis asks, smiling softly as he shifts closer to Harry.

Harry nods. “Yeah, I guess I’m still deciding between history or anthropology. I don’t know what I’d do with either of them though.”

“Teach?”

“Yeah, maybe. I think I’d be good at it,” Harry ponders. “Your turn to tell me about yourself, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis flips onto his stomach and rests his head on his forearms.

“My name’s Louis,” he begins, smiling at Harry. “I’m a mechanical engineering major… I’m a junior. Grew up in Doncaster. I’ve got five sisters and a brother- I’m the oldest.”

“Mechanical engineering sounds intense,” Harry says, wincing as he thinks of all the math involved.

“It just means that when I’m not living in the library, I’m getting wasted to forget about how stressed I am,” Louis explains, rubbing his eyes. Harry sighs sympathetically.

“You’ve got a big family,” Harry remarks, shifting onto his back. “I’ve always wanted a brother.”

“Mine’s only three years old,” Louis replies. “But he’s the best. I mean, they all are, really.”

“I bet you’re a good brother.”

Louis shrugs, as he turns onto his back, their shoulders touching.

“Yeah, I’m alright with them. I try to be, at least. Try to be a good role model and shit like that.”

“You curse like that around them?” Harry quips, looking at Louis out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re one to talk,” Louis protests, pinching Harry’s side. “You’ve got a mouth on you too, if I can remember from half an hour ago.”

Harry blushes as he shakes his head, remembering the string of words that Louis inspired as he moved on top of him.

“Could you blame me?” he asks weakly.

“Not really, no,” Louis grins with satisfaction. “But, my mom curses up a storm, and I think she’s doing a great job.”

“My mom tries to be prim and proper, but she can get feisty sometimes too,” Harry replies. “I hope I could be as good a parent as she is one day.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, peering at him as he turns onto his side. He brushes his fingertips along Harry’s butterfly tattoo.

“I’ve always wanted kids,” Harry explains.

“Even as young as you are?”

Harry turns onto his side and nods as he props himself up on his elbow. “What about you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis answers, smiling softly as he falls onto his back.

He stares up at Harry for a moment, his eyes tracking over his face. He leans up to kiss him, his hands pulling him closer. Harry drapes himself over Louis, his body caging him in as their kisses grow deeper.

“Baby,” Louis breathes. He runs his feet up the backs of Harry’s legs before he wraps them loosely around Harry’s waist.

“I thought you were sore?” Harry asks, his lips brushing against the junction between Louis’ neck and shoulder.

“Just,” he replies, throwing his head back against the pillow, his back arched and neck exposed, “go slow this time.”

And so, Harry does, helpless to do anything Louis asks of him. He moves his body at a pace that leaves Louis crying for him to move, to go, to do anything. What starts off at a snail’s pace grows to a fevered pitch, and moments later, they lay exhausted against the messy sheets once more.

When Harry leaves Louis’ room, just a few hours before dawn, after having finally exchanged numbers, he feels loopy and drunker than he’s ever felt before.

 

**Mid-October**

 

Sweat rolls down Harry’s back as he bops his head to the loud music blaring through the speakers. He raises his beer to the ceiling in tandem with the booming bass, and with his left hand, he grips his fingers tighter as he grinds his hips against the boy in front of him. His eyes feel heavy from the blunt that he and Niall smoked earlier in the night, huddling together on the frat house porch in the cold October wind.

He feels _good_ as he noses at the boy’s exposed neck. He smells like strong cologne and spray deodorant, and it’s not bad, but it’s not great either. Harry tries to ignore it as he brushes his lips against the skin below the boy’s ear.

“What’s your name?” he murmurs. The boy turns around and stares down at Harry with warm brown eyes, his black hair slicked back off his face.

“Anthony,” the boy answers as his eyes traverse the long lines of Harry’s body.

“I’m Harry!” he replies loud enough for Anthony to hear him over the loud music. Anthony smiles as they continue dancing, their hips swiveling together. Harry doesn’t know what the song is, but his heart is racing as the beat drops. He feels electric with the night, the boy before him attractive enough and warm in his arms.

They begin to kiss, their noses knocking together clumsily. Harry laughs a bit as he brings Anthony in closer, angling for second kiss better than their first. He closes his eyes as they begin to kiss in earnest. The house is crowded, as Sigma Alpha Whatever fraternity parties tend to be. Partygoers jostle them as they dance and move all around them. Harry thinks fleetingly that he wishes that Anthony would use a bit less tongue before he pulls away.

Gesturing to his empty beer, he asks Anthony if he needs a refill. The boy nods, handing him his extra cup. Harry half-expects him to follow him, but instead, Anthony keeps dancing, quickly turning back around to his group of friends. After winding his way through the throng of people, Harry takes his place in the line at the keg. Despite the October chill, his white shirt is sticking to his chest and back with sweat. He holds his cup up to his neck in hopes that whatever condensation on the surface will help cool him down. It’s as he’s fruitlessly searching for a cold spot on his cup that he feels a hand rest on his waist.

Jumping slightly, he turns around to see Louis standing behind him. A feeling like relief and something that Harry can’t quite put his finger on courses through his chest upon seeing the familiar face, and he can’t help but smile.

“Lou!”

“Harry,” Louis nods, raising his empty cup in greeting. “Having fun?”

Harry thinks back to the boy he left on the living room dance floor. It had seemed fun enough at the time, so he nods. “Yeah, it’s an alright party.”

Louis waves his hand as he scrunches his nose. “It’s okay. A bit crowded.”

Harry glances around, feeling suddenly stifled by the heat of all the people packed into the tiny space. “Good party though,” he shrugs. “Good company.”

“Looks like you were enjoying your company,” Louis raises his eyebrow before he glances in Anthony’s direction with narrowed eyes.

Harry feels his face grow hotter. “Yeah, he was okay.”

“Just ‘okay’?”

Harry thinks back to the way Anthony’s tongue seemed to go too far into his mouth, how his cologne made him want to sneeze. His hips felt wrong under Harry’s fingertips.

He nods. “He was... a bit... eh.”

“You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings, you know.”

“I’m not lying!” he protests defensively.

It’s as he’s wondering why he would need to protect his feelings anyway that he sees Louis bite back a smile. Two weeks had passed since he saw Louis at a party. He had been busy with midterm exams, and then he had caught a cold that had rendered him miserable and bedridden. Seeing Louis stand in front of him now filled him with warmth unrelated to the humid body heat that filled the room.

“I’m not lying,” he repeats, softer now. He wants to nose along Louis’ jaw, breathe in his familiar scent. Stepping an inch or so into Louis’ space, he leans closer.

“I believe you, Curly,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head fondly before gazing up at him. He steps even closer, pulling Harry closer by the belt loops. Harry could feel his breath warm against his neck as he brushes his lips against his skin. “You know... I don’t care if you kiss other people.”

Harry smiles as he feels Louis’ stubble scratch against his neck. “I know you don’t, but-”

He stifles a moan as Louis bites down gently on the soft surface of his skin. “You can kiss other people too-”

Louis pauses to look at him pointedly. “I know I can.”

“Well, have you?” Harry asks, his brows furrowed.

“What’s it to _you_?” Louis retorts with a smirk. “You’re the one I’m kissing now.”

Louis leans up and brings his lips to Harry’s. It has been two weeks and yet it feels like it has been a whole semester, or maybe even a year, and Harry can’t help but bring his hand up to hold Louis’ face. He ends up dropping the cups he had been holding onto the dingy floor, walking backwards as they move up in the keg line. Louis’ hand holds onto the hair by the base of his neck as his other hand slips underneath the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt.

“Let’s go,” Harry breathes, pulling away from Louis for a second.

Louis nods fervently. “Okay, yeah.”

Louis reaches for his hand as they begin to weave in and out of the crowd. When they finally reach the front door, Harry feels a hand grab at his shoulder. He turns around to find Anthony standing there, his tentative smile fading as he notices Louis’ hand in his.

“You leaving already?” Anthony asks.

Harry glances down at Louis’ and his hands before looking back to Anthony. Smiling apologetically, he nods. “Yeah. See you around?”

“Sure,” Anthony nods, skeptically. He shakes his head slightly before he turns around and walks back through the crowd. Harry looks over at Louis, who is watching Anthony walk away with a blank look on his face. When Harry squeezes his hand, Louis blinks before smiling suddenly at Harry.

“I see you’ve made quite the impression on him,” Louis says dryly. “You sure you don't wanna just hook up with him instead?”

“Shut it,” Harry giggles, pulling Louis closer. “Tonight, I’m choosing you.”

“Just tonight?” Louis asks, his brow quirked in a silent question. Harry kisses his jawline before pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

“What’s it to you?” he repeats Louis’ words from earlier. “You're the one I'm kissing right now.”

Louis’ responds with a laugh that sounds thin and reedy to his ears, but Harry is too eager for them to finally get back to Louis’ house to read too much into it. They make their way out onto the front steps of the house. A strong gust of wind blows leaves across the lawn as Louis burrows into his hoodie.

“Cold?” Harry asks.

“I’m good,” Louis replies through chattering teeth.

Harry looks at him with skepticism before wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulders. “C’mere.”

Louis shakes his head as he steps away to the side. “No, really, I’m okay-”

“You’re shaking!”

“I’m literally around the corner, I’ll be okay!”

Harry gives him one more pointed look before he drops his arm.

“Alright,” he falters. 

The rest of the walk to Louis’ place is quiet, save for the sound of their feet hitting the pavement. The town which houses their college is sleepy and dull, other than the parties hosted by various houses. Harry starts to recognize his surroundings as they approach the house that Louis shares with a few other students. The tree-lined street is quaint, filled with families and elderly people. Louis had informed him of this the first time they had stumbled their way down his block, as he held onto Harry’s back, his one shoe lost forever in the basement of some random fraternity house.

Harry grins when he thinks of that first night and how he had used the excuse to rest his back as a reason to kiss Louis over and over. By the time they had reached Louis’ house, he still felt drunk but his mind felt clearer from the long walk and the balmy early September air. Despite his spinning head, he remembers Louis’ eyes, how they crinkled as he smiled at him.

“Thanks,” he had murmured as he lingered by his front door. When Louis had one foot in his door, Harry had pulled him closer for one last kiss goodnight, not sure if he would ever see him again.

The sound of Louis swinging the front door of his house open startles Harry back to the present. He must’ve jumped because when his eyes come into focus, Louis looks concerned.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies. “Just thinking.”

Louis walks into his house, flicking the light on before he wanders down the hallway off the side of the living room. Harry follows him, the hallway familiar to him from his previous visit.

“Thinking about what?”

“How I carried you home that one time.” Harry brings his hands to Louis’ waist and buries his face in his neck.

“That was a good night,” Louis mumbles, his hands resting atop Harry’s.

“Mm, it was.”

Louis nudges the door to his bedroom open. The small lamp by his bed emits a soft glow, and Harry thinks back to the last time he was in his room, when the lamp had washed Louis’ skin golden as he laid bare against his duvet. Harry’s fingers itch in anticipation of seeing Louis again, of feeling him underneath his fingertips.

He walks Louis backwards until they fall onto the bed. Bracing his weight on his arms, he cages Louis in before dipping his head down to kiss him. He hears Louis let out a sigh before wrapping his arms around his back, pulling him closer. Harry falls to his elbows and lets his hips sink into Louis’, whose knees have now fallen open. Louis pulls Harry’s shirt off and works quickly to remove his jeans before he pulls his own shirt over his head, too. Harry kisses him again, sucking marks onto his neck and chest as Louis kicks off his pants. Harry runs his hands up and down Louis’ bare torso, his eyes drinking in the way the light casts shadows across Louis’ face and body. Breathing heavily, he falls to his elbows again as they get lost in each other. As their kisses grow more frantic, Harry reaches over to Louis’ bedside drawer. His hand fumbles around the near-empty drawer, locating lube and nothing else.

“Do you have…?” Harry asks, kissing the corner of Louis’ mouth before he kisses along the tops of his cheekbones. Louis chases Harry’s lips, kissing him once more before he freezes.

“Shit,” he mutters. “No… the last time… that was my last one.”

Harry rests his forehead against his shoulder and exhales slowly. “Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay.”

“Sorry,” Louis says, looking straight up at the ceiling. “I forgot.”

Harry falls to the other side of the bed. “Lou, there’s no need to apologize.”

“I know, but-”

“It’s completely fine,” Harry reassures him, placing a kiss on his shoulder. “We can still do other stuff, if you want.”

Louis gives a one-shouldered shrug.

“Or… not,” Harry adds on.

“We could just sit and talk,” Louis mumbles. He crosses his arms over his chest as he continues to stare at the ceiling.

“Part of me feels like you didn’t invite me over just to talk,” Harry murmurs, his nose resting against the smooth skin of Louis’ tattooed arm. “I could just go if you want.”

Louis tenses beside him. He bites his lip as he lets his eyes close. He lets his head fall to the side, away from where Harry lies. Harry rests his head on his elbow as he waits for his response.

His eyes open before his gaze comes to rest on Harry. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”

Harry tilts his head. “What’s fine?” he asks. “Do you want me to go?”

Louis blinks and gives a closed-lip smile. “If you wanna go, you can go.”

“I don’t understand what you want me to do,” Harry says slowly. “I can stay if you want-”

“You came here because you were expecting that we’d fuck, right?” Louis interjects, his brows raised high on his forehead.

“I mean,” Harry starts. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And we can’t, so…” Louis replies, covering his eyes with his forearm. “So, there’s no need to be here then.”

“I don’t mind-”

“I’m probably going to pass out soon anyway.”

Harry imagines what it’d be like to fall asleep next to Louis. He wonders if it would feel the way it does when they kiss. Warm and familiar and safe. He wraps an arm around Louis’ tummy.

“If you want, I can stay,” he says quietly. Louis is quiet for a moment as he blinks up at the ceiling once more.

“Do whatever you want, Harry,” Louis sighs as he sits up, extricating himself from Harry’s arms. “I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

Harry sits up, feeling suddenly naked and cold from Louis’ absence. Confusion sets in, and he doesn’t understand Louis’ change in temperature towards him. He wracks his brain as he mentally reviews the nights’ events in his head. Louis had seemed happy enough to run into him again at the party. He had seemed eager enough to get the ball rolling when they had landed on his bed too. The walk back from the party to his house seemed a little awkward, but Harry figured that was just because Louis was cold. Maybe Louis didn’t want Harry cuddling him as they walked because he wasn’t in the mood, which would explain why he seemed so indifferent about Harry staying the night.

Deciding that Louis just didn’t really want him there and was too nice to say so directly, Harry begins collecting his clothing off the ground. He jumps up off the bed and slips on his boxers and jeans. As he is pulling his t-shirt on, he hears Louis walk back into the room.

“You’re leaving?” Louis states more than asks. Harry freezes as his shirt is halfway down his torso. He pulls it down completely and nods.

“Yeah. Figured you wanted your sleep.”

Louis walks slowly to the bed before he sits down. He’s changed into sweatpants and another hoodie, and Harry can’t help but wish that Louis wanted him to stay.

Staring at his hands, Louis nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

Harry nods as well, patting his pockets as he checks for his phone and wallet. “Okay, then.”

Louis glances up. “Okay,” he says quietly. He stands up and starts padding towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

Harry hesitates at the door.

“I’ll see you around?” he asks. He can’t place his finger on why he feels so out-of-sorts, but something about the night is making him feel deeply unsettled.

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” Louis says dismissively as he opens the door. He fiddles with the edges of his sweater sleeves before he looks up. “Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry wants to say goodnight, but instead, he kisses him. Unlike the countless ones from earlier in the night, there’s a slowness to this one. Harry cups Louis’ face in his hands and kisses him once, twice, and a few times more. Harry thinks that maybe he’s savoring it, as if it might be his last one. He doesn’t know why he is thinking that this might be the end, but regardless of his thought’s origin, he hopes that he’s wrong.

 

**Early November**

 

“You sure you wanna go out tonight?” Niall asks, lacing his boots on his feet. He pulls on a denim jacket before turning to face Harry, who’s lying on the bed, fully dressed.

Harry sits up, his back and legs aching as he swings his legs to the floor. Practice was brutal earlier that afternoon, but he reasons that it’s a Friday night after a long week. “Yeah, why not?” he replies, reaching for his toggle coat.

“Because, you’ve gotta be awake for practice at ass-crack in the morning!” Niall laughs as he pours a shot for himself. He holds up an empty shot glass for Harry. “Want one?”

Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, but I’ll be okay, as long as I don’t drink. I’ll just sleep after.”

Niall throws his head back and takes the shot. Wincing from the burn, he shrugs. “If you say so!”

“Trust me, Niall. Lots of the guys do it- they party, then go straight to practice. Half the time, they’re still drunk on the water.”

They turn their desk lamps off and walk towards the door, both of them bundled up in preparation to walk ten minutes in the miserable November rain to get to whatever random organization is throwing tonight’s party.

“That sounds dangerous,” Niall mumbles. A beat later, his eyes light up. “You think I should join crew?”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, maybe you can be the coxswain.”

“The cox- what? Do you mean the little guy who shouts at them?” Niall sputters incredulously. “I don’t know if I should be offended.”

Harry throws an arm casually around his roommate, who has become his best friend over the past few months. “Of course not, Nialler. It’s a very important job.”

Niall seems to consider it for a brief moment before wrinkling his nose. “Actually, nah, I think I’ll pass.”

“But-”

“Because I like getting wasted and sleeping in on Saturday mornings! Unlike you, ya sucker!” Niall laughs, slapping Harry’s back.

Harry shakes his head and smiles as they exit the stairs into their dormitory’s lobby.

“Thanks for the reminder, jerk,” he snorts, shoving him lightly. 

Despite the light rain, the campus sidewalks are filled with students heading out for the night. Gone are the frenzied nights from the early days in the semester. In their place are nights where it seems everyone is just trying to drown out their stress with alcohol and drugs. Harry himself understands that push. He knows that if he stayed in his dorm, he would have spent the hours restless, overwhelmed by his thoughts and worries. And although he can’t lose his mind as much as he would like, he is looking forward to a few hours where he can just be carefree.

After about ten minutes of walking, they end up at the swim team’s house. A boy with close-cropped brown hair and friendly brown eyes opens the back porch’s door to let them in.

“Hey, Liam,” Niall greets, handing him five dollars in exchange for a cup. Liam brings him in for a half-hug, clapping him on the back.

“Horan, good to see you,” he exclaims before turning to Harry, extending a cup towards him.

“I’m good- not drinking tonight,” Harry says, putting his hand out in front of him.

Liam raises his thick eyebrows in surprise. Harry grins as he shrugs.

“He’s got crew in the morning,” Niall explains. “I’m telling him to just say fuck it and get drunk with me, but he’s being lame.”

“Ah,” Liam replies, his eyes lighting up sympathetically in recognition. “I know what that’s like, man. I swim hungover all the time.”

Harry winces. “Did that a few times. Not good.”

Liam hold a cup out for him anyway. “Just take it. There’s water in the fridge or you can take some soda, or juice, or whatever.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but Liam cuts him off.

“Really,” he insists.

“How come I have to pay five bucks, and Harry doesn’t?” Niall argues.

Liam looks at Niall with mock consternation. “Don’t question my authority in my own house!”

Harry laughs as he thinks about how much Niall resembles a grumpy kitten. Niall begins to walk towards the main living area where the kegs and shots are.

“Go fuck yourself, Payno!” he shouts over his shoulder with a smile.

“I’m Liam, by the way,” the other boy says, holding out his hand.

“I’m Harry,” he says, shaking his hand.

“Welcome to the Swim House,” Liam replies, smiling widely. “Hope you have a good night, sober or not!”

Two hours later, Harry is still trying to have a good time. He never thought of himself as someone who needs alcohol to have fun, but being around so many rowdy people is wearing his patience. He already had beer spilled on his shirt once and his feet stepped on twice. Despite his protests that he really wasn’t into him, a boy he had met on the dance floor kept trying to kiss him, his hands gripping his face as he tried to pull him closer. With a clenched jaw and budding headache, he has to admit that he just isn’t having much fun.

He resorts to exploring the upper levels of the house, where partygoers are usually discouraged from going, and ends up finding possibly the only clean bathroom in the threadbare house. Relishing in the reprieve from the loud party downstairs, he closes the door and leans against the bathroom counter. He takes his phone out and scrolls absentmindedly through Instagram, his thumb hovering when he sees that Louis has just posted a photo.

In the photo, Louis is in a crowded selfie, giving a thumbs up. Harry recognizes the wall behind him as the one in the kitchen downstairs.

“He’s here,” he whispers, his stomach fluttering unexpectedly. The last time he saw Louis felt like an unfinished sentence. Louis has filled Harry’s thoughts since then. There was something off about Louis that night- his voice, his touch, the way his eyes seemed far away. Harry wanted to solve this mystery, but between his classes and practice, he never seemed to find the right time to call him.

That was two weeks ago.

Determined to figure Louis out, he stands up straight from where he is leaning idly on the bathroom counter. Pulling his phone out, he messages Louis.

' _Hey, are you at the swim house?_ ' he types out quickly. He waits a minute for a response, but nothing comes.

After checking his reflection, he looks around the bathroom and sighs in relief when he finds a bottle of mouthwash. After quickly gargling some in his mouth, he slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way to back to the party. As he approaches the bottom of the stairs, he is surprised to see that even more people have filled the bottom floor. The energy in the room is frenetic, as the people around him chase away their stress with loud music and alcohol. The heady scent of weed fills the room, which is hazy with smoke.

Harry’s eyes desperately search for Louis.

He pushes his way into the crowd, deciding to look in the kitchen. He is forced to pause in his steps by a group of people taking a picture, shot glasses in hand.

“Harry!” a voice shouts. Harry whips his head to the right, his heart beating faster. He schools his face into anything but disappointed when he realizes that it’s only Liam.

“Hey, Liam,” Harry replies, waving at him even as his eyes scan the room around him.

“Feeling alright?” Liam asks, as his eyes fill with concern.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Harry answers. He gives the room around him one last look before checking his phone. Still no response. Maybe that picture was from much earlier in the night, and somehow he missed him when he was too busy warding off drunken girls and cleaning beer off his shirt. Maybe Louis left already. The thought makes his stomach sink. Turning back to Liam, he shrugs. “But hey, I think I’m gonna head out early. Sleep a little before practice.”

“Yeah, of course, of course! Good meeting you tonight!” Liam nods enthusiastically before turning around briefly when someone shouts his name from the other side of the kitchen. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you around!”

Harry smiles in response as he walks towards the door to the back porch. The chill of the night air is a contrast to the humid haze that had a chokehold on the party inside, and it feels like an escape when Harry finally steps outside. He is walking down the steps when he hears someone spark a lighter from behind a tree in the backyard. Turning his head involuntarily, he realizes with a start that it’s Louis.

“Hey,” he says dumbly. A plume of smoke rises to the air before Louis steps forward. He looks warmer than the last time Harry saw him, wearing an oversized sweater.

“Hi,” Louis replies, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He offers a tightlipped smile, and Harry can’t help but notice that the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“How’s it going?” Harry asks. When he sees Louis’ fingers poking out from the too-long sleeves of his sweater, he remembers the way those fingers danced across his back all those weeks ago. Harry suddenly feels so very cold.

Louis shrugs impassively. “Alright. I’m actually on my way home.”

“Oh,” Harry says, stepping forward. “Me too.”

“Not feeling the party?” Louis exhales the smoke up towards the sky before stubbing the cigarette down on the lawn.

“I’ve got practice in the morning, so…” Harry explains slowly, “It’s not really as much fun when you’re sober.”

Louis laughs weakly. “I know what you mean. I’ve got an early train to catch tomorrow.”

Harry chuckles before the air between them falls silent. It’s when Harry notices that Louis keeps rubbing the toe of his sneaker against the cigarette that he realizes that he is waiting for him to say something.

“I’ll walk you home?” he offers, though it comes out more like a question.

Louis meets his eye while Harry waits with bated breath. After a moment, he nods imperceptibly.

“Okay.”

They walk two feet apart, their hands shoved into their pockets. The soft rain turns heavier until it is coming down in sheets. Their feet hit the pavement in a run, and when they reach Louis’ street, only the sound of their breathing and the steady rainfall are audible.

The memory of that first night they met flashes through Harry’s mind as Louis turns back to him and finally smiles. Harry wonders if maybe Louis is thinking of the same thing, if running through the sleepy streets brought some warmth back to the space between them. Seeing the light from Louis’ front steps ahead in the distance, Harry reaches out for Louis’ hand.

Louis comes to a standstill on the sidewalk in front of his house and looks down at their hands.

“Harry-”

“Can I kiss you?”

Louis glances up sharply. “I thought you have to wake up early?”

Harry nods. “I do.”

Louis looks at the house before looking at the sky, as if searching for an answer. His gaze finally settles on Harry’s face as he sighs. “Well, c’mon. We’re gonna catch pneumonia standing out here.”

He walks to the front door, their hands still entwined. Harry looks on as he takes the keys out of his pocket. His eyes squint as they search for the right key, the rain relentless against their skin. When he finds it, he holds it up in victory, a smile rising to his face. Seeing his eyes light up despite the pouring rain, Harry pulls Louis against him in a kiss.

The rain seems to fade, and it is September all over again.

Louis nudges their noses together as he pulls away.

“You couldn’t wait til we got inside?” he asks, shaking his head as a soft smile rises to his face.

“No,” Harry whispers, biting his lip.

Grinning, Louis opens the door. They walk quietly to Louis’ room, and in the dark, with only the street lamps from outside as their light, they strip off their soaked clothing until they are standing naked before each other once more. 

With a racing heart, Harry reaches for Louis’ hand once more. It’s as they move together, skin against skin, lips and teeth, and gasps and whimpers, their hands still entwined, that the racing in Harry’s mind, the unsettled feeling in his stomach, finally slows to a still peace.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight,” Harry says softly, later that night. The rain has slowed once more.

Louis turns onto his side, facing Harry. He runs his fingers across Harry’s collarbones and down his stomach. “You know, you could just text me,” he mumbles.

Harry rests his hand on top of Louis’.

“But it’s kinda fun how random this is,” he replies, smiling. When he turns to face him, Louis is looking down at the space between them as he withdraws his hand.

Harry’s smile falters. “This _is_ fun, right?”

Louis rolls onto his back, their shoulders the only point of contact between them. “Yeah, Haz. This is really fun.”

“I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t text you. I’ve got classes and practice-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Louis says, sitting up. “I’m busy too. Junior year is hectic.”

“Oh,” Harry replies. He remembers Louis telling him about long hours at the library, how he parties to manage his stress. That night, where they spoke in hushed voices, their bodies still warm with sweat, seems so long ago. He adds, “Yeah, I could imagine.”

“Neither of us really have much time for anything serious,” Louis mutters, his head facing the opposite wall.

Harry opens his mouth to speak but he can’t think of what to say. He wants to tell him that he wants to make Louis happy, even though they’re not dating. He wants to tell Louis that running into him always makes his nights better, that he’s the one that he wants to think of when he looks back on his first semester…

He just nods instead.

“What time is practice?” Louis asks, glancing at the clock on his bedside table.

“In two hours,” Harry says quietly.

“Best get going then,” Louis replies, swinging his feet onto the floor. “I’ll walk you out.”

As he changes back into his damp clothes, that unsettled feeling bubbles back into his gut. He wants to reach out and hold Louis, feel his smile against his, but with a sad twist in his chest, he realizes that aside from their impromptu meetings, this thing between them is tenuous at best. He wonders if he’s been misreading their every interaction, if Louis is actually too busy for anything more than just the occasional hook-up or if those were just empty words. Although he’s trying to tell himself that this is meaningless sex, Harry can’t shake the feeling that he is somehow responsible for the sadness in Louis’ eyes, for the distant sound of his voice.

As he kisses Louis goodnight, he tells himself that this kiss can’t be their last.

“I’ll call you,” he murmurs.

“Okay,” Louis replies, his eyes not quite meeting Harry’s.

Harry is halfway down the street when he turns around to see if Louis is still there, but the door is closed.

 

**Early December**

 

Harry doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s sat on a couch at some random party, having just consumed his eighth beer. Someone passes him a blunt, and he obligingly takes his third hit of the night. The smoke erupts from his nose and mouth as he coughs, and he reaches for his drink to ease the burning in his throat. The room spins slightly, but he finds that if he just keeps staring at the dingy coffee table in front of him, the dizziness isn’t so bad. It’s the first weekend of December- that point in the semester when classes are nearing their end but haven’t yet devolved into the frenzied state of finals. He is surrounded on either side by people that seem fun and interested in him, and the alcohol and weed spin through his system. He should be having the time of his life as he nears the end of his first semester of college…

And yet, his eyes still search the room. His ears are still waiting to hear that voice, soft and warm and rough all at once. He looks at the boy sitting next to him, and he knows it would be an easy hook-up. All he’d have to do is lean in and let his lips brush against their ear as he talks to them. Maybe he’d bite his lip or just let his hand fall against theirs.

It would be effortless.

He could probably be having sex with the boy beside him in less than half an hour if he wanted to. But, Harry realizes with startling clarity that the boy sitting next to him is not who he wants to be with tonight.

It’s been nearly a month since the last time he was with Louis. The night after they last saw each other, Harry had texted him, as promised. He chalked up Louis’ lack of response to the late hour that he had sent the message.

 _Maybe he’s sleeping_ , Harry told himself. A second later, his brain helpfully added, _with someone else._

In an effort not to seem desperate, Harry waited nearly another week before texting again.

' _Are you going out tonight?'_ he had sent, his heart beating wild with hope.

But his phone remained silent that Thursday night. It was around the twentieth time that he had checked his phone while at the Swim House party that Liam grabbed it from his hand.

“Okay, that’s it,” Liam had said decisively. “Who’s got you checking your phone?”

“No one!” Harry had protested, trying to grab his phone back.

“I hate to break it to ya,” Niall interjected. “But if he hasn’t texted you back by 1 in the morning, he’s not texting you back at all.”

Harry had chased that harsh bit of truth back with two more shots of vodka.

The next Saturday, Harry texted Louis when he arrived to some party at the same sorority house where they had gotten caught back in the early days of October.

' _At ZTO tonight. Thinking about the trouble we got into ;) Where r u?_ ' he had typed out quickly, before Niall could give him a stern look for being stuck to his phone. He told himself that he would check for a response from Louis only twice that night. Sticking his phone in his back pocket, he tried to focus on being a good beer pong teammate for Liam. He held Niall’s legs up as he did yet another keg stand, and he chugged down watery beer in three games of flip cup. He was just about to congratulate himself on not checking his phone when a familiar voice had floated above the din of the crowd.

Turning his head towards the living room, he saw Louis, dancing in the center of the crowd. His back rested against another boy’s chest, their hips moving in tandem to the beat of the song. He tilted his head back, the long line of his neck exposed. Reaching back, he pulled the other boy’s head down. Louis’ eyes closed as the boy dipped his lips towards his neck. Harry could see the other boy whisper something in his ear as a smile rose to his face.

Harry’s mouth went dry as the dull ache in his chest flourished back to life. The lips sucking marks into Louis’ neck were treading over skin that Harry’s lips had once explored. He wanted it to be his arms holding Louis close, his hips moving in tight circles. He wanted to be the one to make Louis smile with whispered words. The air felt knocked out of him, and the music was too loud. He stepped forward with leaden legs, hyperfocused on reaching Louis as the crowd around him faded.

“Louis,” he called, his voice sounding strangled to his ears.

His body suddenly freezing, Louis met Harry’s stare before quickly averting his eyes. He placed his hands on the other boy’s arms, stepping away from him as if burned. He looked up at Harry for a fleeting moment, his mouth forming a thin-lined frown as his chest heaved, before he turned to leave the crowd.

“Wait!” Harry shouted, as he reached his arm out. The crowd was too thick, however, and by the time he navigated his way through, Louis was nowhere in sight. Harry searched the kitchen before he ran outside. Calling out his name, he walked the perimeter of the yard before checking the empty sidewalks.

Harry had realized with a sinking feeling that maybe that was the end- Louis had clearly moved on. He hadn’t even wanted to say hello, and instead, ran in the opposite direction when Harry came too close to him. Liam had caught him later that night idly standing by the wall, staring at the blank screen on his phone. After Liam and Niall convinced him to take a shot of vodka and play three more games of flip cup with them, Harry was drunk enough to tell himself that he felt better already.

But during Thanksgiving break, his mind wandered to Louis. His fingers itched to text him again, and after one too many glasses of mulled wine, he found his thumb hovering over the Call button. He just wanted to hear his voice. In a panic, he hid his phone underneath his bed before he could fall prey to temptation.

Now, a week after Thanksgiving, he is sitting on an uncomfortable couch, the wrong boy squeezed beside him. He knows he smoked too much and drank too much that night, but he just wants to let go of the boy whose hand he had grabbed onto that one early September night. He stands up on shaky legs and wanders outside, not even bothering to say goodbye to his new acquaintances. When he gets outside, the air is bitter cold against his heated skin. A dusting of snow had fallen in the hours since he arrived to the party, and the sidewalks and lawns glisten underneath the street lamps.

“Wow,” he whispers, gripping the stair railing. He takes his phone out of his back pocket and snaps a photo of the winter scene in front of him. His eyes feel heavy as he searches through his address book for Louis’ name.

“Aha,” he breathes when he finds it. With much difficulty, he attaches the photo and sends it to him.

‘ _Reminds me of you,_ ’ he adds in a separate message.

His eyes grow wide as he sees Louis respond almost immediately.

‘ _Why?_ ’ Louis asks.

Harry knows he is smiling stupidly as he types out his response.

' _I_ _t’s beautiful._ ’

He sees the ellipses appear and disappear, only to reappear again, before another message pops up.

‘ _Are you drunk?_ ’

Harry nods before realizing that Louis can’t see him.

‘ _Yeah,_ ’ he answers.

The ellipses never appears on his screen. Harry stands like a statue on the lawn with his phone in his hand, until he blinks and realizes that his phone has long since gone black. He sinks to the porch steps behind him, suddenly feeling drained of energy. He just wants to lay down and sleep, the momentary thrill of five minutes ago dissipated into the chilly air.

He watches with increasingly heavy eyes as the layer of snow on the ground gets thicker. He wants Louis here with him so that he can see how pretty the snow looks when it falls. He takes his phone out once more. He knows he is being a clingy freshman, that Louis is probably at a better party, that he might even be with someone else, but he calls him anyway.

It rings twice before it goes to voicemail. Harry tries to ignore the pain in his chest as he begins talking.

“Louis,” he begins. “Louis, I know I’m messed up right now, but I just need you to listen.” He tries to stand up before stumbling backwards onto the steps.

“I’m stupid, okay? I’m a dumb freshman, and I wanted to just have all the fun. Me and Niall had this game going where we tried to hook up with people from every floor. It’s stupid though,” he pauses to catch his breath. “It’s stupid because I’m losing. Niall’s carrying the team. I only got you and that one kid from that party, but really it’s just you. And I know you’ve moved on, but I _can’t_. I miss you. I miss kissing you, and smelling you. That’s weird, right? I’m weird. And your smile.. God, I miss that. Fuck, I’m fucked up. I want you here with me, all the time. All the fucking time, Louis, and I think we should-”

The phone beeps and Harry realizes that his message got cut off. His head sinks into his hands. Even with his eyes closed, he still feels like he’s spinning.

“Oh god,” he mutters as he tries to stand up again. Once he is standing, his legs feel even weaker than before. He sinks back to the porch again, laying his head on the top step.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whimpers. He squeezes his eyes shut as a wave of nausea hits him. He should know better by now than to smoke weed when he is this drunk, but he was tired of feeling things.

“Harry?” a voice calls out.

Harry shakes his head, afraid of how bad his spins will be if he opens his eyes. He just wants to sleep it off. He hides his face in his arms as he turns to his side on steps.

“C’mon, you can’t pass out here.”

“Lou?” Harry mumbles, feeling like he is drifting in and out of consciousness. “Louis?”

“Louis? Who the fuck?” the voice says, shaking his shoulder. “No, it’s Niall.”

Niall grunts as he tries to heft Harry up to standing.

“Jesus Christ, you’re heavy,” Harry hears him mutter, as he drags him to his feet.

“I want Louis,” Harry rambles. “Bring me to him?”

Harry’s eyes refocus on the ground beneath him as they begin walking. Niall is grumbling under his breath about how his roommate has finally lost it, but all Harry can think about is Louis.

“I carried him. That’s how we met,” he drawls. “He’s beautiful, Niall.”

“I’m sure he is, H,” Niall replies, breathing heavily as he helps support Harry’s weight.

“I wanna see him. I can walk there,” Harry says, standing taller in a burst of determination.

Niall laughs softly. “I don’t think you can walk anywhere right now, man.”

Harry continues to protest weakly, even as he clings to his roommate, the whole way back to their dorm. He wants to cry because his legs have seemed to stop working, and all he wants is to lay down with Louis in his arms.

“It’s been so long,” he whimpers as Niall shoves their dorm room open. He stumbles to his bed and plops unceremoniously down onto the mattress, still wearing his wet boots and jeans.

“You’re still talking about this Louis guy?” Niall says, though his tone is gentle. He gets a bottle of water out from their mini fridge and opens it. Handing it to Harry, he adds, “Who is he, anyway?”

“He’s the sun, and the stars, and the snow,” Harry rambles before taking a sip of water. He hands the bottle back to Niall.

“Yeah?” Niall indulges him, giving the bottle back to Harry.

“He’s handsome, and funny, and nice, and I like kissing him,” he mumbles. “I only want to kiss _him_ now. No one else.”

“Well, then, why aren’t you?” Niall asks, sitting at the foot of Harry’s bed.

“He doesn’t want me anymore,” Harry whimpers. He is unsurprised to feel tears spring to his eyes. The past few weeks have been one long attempt to forget Louis, but instead of the substances defending him from his thoughts, they only left him more vulnerable to them. “I think I messed up. He won’t answer me.”

Harry tries looking at his phone once more before Niall takes it from his hand.

“I think you should sleep this off, Haz.”

Harry shakes his head. “I just want to say goodnight. He is the moon.”

“You’re so fucked up right now, dude," He hears Niall laugh quietly, but kindly. 

“I am fucked up by Louis Tomlinson,” Harry giggles, even as tears continue to stream down his face. “He was my Thanksgiving wish.”

“Thanksgiving wish?” Niall replies, handing Harry the water bottle again before he tugs at his boots.

“I got the wishbone, and me and Gems split it, and I wished for Louis,” Harry mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. He curls his knees to his chest and lets his hair fall over his face. He hears Niall getting changed for bed, the routine a familiar sound.

“He’s so beautiful, Niall,” he breathes, before he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

 

**Mid-December**

 

The room is bright with sunshine when Harry wakes up. Squinting, he peers out the window to see that the ground is covered in snow, dazzling under the December sun. The snow that had fallen two weeks before had been only a dusting, making everything shimmer only to melt once the sun rose. But from Harry’s window on the third floor of his dormitory, he estimates that the snow is about a foot high.

“Niall,” he whispers, a smile on his face.

The other boy stirs in his sleep, groaning unintelligibly.

“Niall,” he repeats. “Wake up.”

“Why?” Niall grumbles as he throws a pillow over his face.

“It snowed!”

“Cool story,” Niall replies. He starts to roll over before Harry smacks his arm.

“Wake up so we can play in the snow,” Harry insists. “Come on, before it melts!”

Niall sighs. “Seriously? What time is it?”

Harry checks the clock, which read 8:10.

“Like… 8:30," he lies as he bites back a smile. "We can get breakfast and then build snowmen or go sledding or something!”

Niall sits up and runs a hand through his messy hair before he rubs his bleary eyes. “Go sledding with what?”

“Trays from the dining hall, obviously,” Harry replies. He walks over to his dresser and begins pulling out clothes to wear.

“That… actually does sound fun,” Niall’s eyes brighten marginally. “Fuck, I’m hungover. Why aren’t you hungover?”

“I didn’t feel like partying too hard last night,” Harry shrugs. He had gone out because he wanted to celebrate after his last final exam, but the usual gusto with which he used to spin through the night was gone.

“Wanna go out tonight? One last one before we go home for break?” Niall asked as he tugged on a thick sweater.

Harry really doesn’t feel like it. He’d much rather spend the night catching up on Netflix than being surrounded by people he doesn’t really know, outside of those times when they got drunk together and were on the same flip cup team. But, looking at Niall’s hopeful eyes as he stands in front of him in thick layers, ready to play in the snow _despite_ his hangover, he nods.

“Yeah, why not,” he shrugs. “C’mon, Nialler! It’s a snowy adventure type of day!”

After they have their fill of the dining hall’s breakfast buffet, they slyly tuck their trays into their coats.

“Ready?” Niall asks, his eyes lit up with mischief.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Harry replies, a smile spreading across his face.

They walk to the edge of campus where the fields slopes gently downwards towards the forest which borders their school. Unsurprisingly, there are other students there, building snowmen and sledding. Their whoops of childlike wonder fill the freezing air.

Plopping their trays down, they sit next to each other at the peak of the hill.

“On three?” Harry asks.

Niall nods before counting. When he reaches three, they propel themselves down the hill, their trays gliding swiftly as they descend. Harry’s hat flies off with the rush of wind, and he topples over as he reaches the bottom of the hill. The snow is bitingly cold against his face, but his heart is warm with glee. Niall lays a few feet away, his chest heaving as he laughs.

“Again!” Niall declares, clambering to his feet. After Harry searches through the snow for his beloved hat, they rush up the hill, winded by the time they reach their summit. There are a few more people in the field now, the day taking on a festival-like feel as people unroll blankets and take out thermoses, likely filled with whiskey and wine.

“Steve!” a familiar voice calls. “Hurry up!”

Harry looks up from where he is sitting on his tray. The sun forces him to squint until he brings his hand up over his eyes. When his eyes focus, he realizes that it’s Louis.

Louis is staring back at him, his lips parted as if to speak. Harry blinks slowly. The sight of Louis in the daylight feels like a dream, and his eyes drink him in.

“Harry,” Louis says quietly.

“Lou,” Harry breathes. He stands up slowly and steps towards him, his tray discarded at his feet. From the corner of his eye, he can see Niall watching them curiously.

“How are you?” Louis asks, his tone casual as he fiddles with the edges of his coat.

Harry doesn’t know what to say. Should he tell him that there’s a part of him that always feels sad when he thinks about him? Or that he tried to drink away the memory of his smile and the way his fingers felt as they traced along his back, holding onto him tightly as they seemed to meld together? It’s not that he is heartbroken, but he can’t ignore the fact that his eyes search for him in every room of every party. He feels naked in the glare of the sun and the snow.

“Good,” he replies, numbly.

“That’s good,” Louis says in response.

His fingers ache to reach out to Louis, and he feels resentful of the stilted small-talk that fills the space between them instead.

“Are you going sledding?” Harry asks, even though the dining hall tray in Louis’ hand makes his intentions obvious.

“Yeah, just waiting for my roommates to get here,” Louis answers, glancing behind him. He points towards a guy with long black hair and a girl with white blonde hair who looks vaguely familiar. They are talking to another group of people who are building a snowman.

“I was just about to go, if you want...” Harry suggests.

“You should probably go ahead. Your friend is waiting,” Louis interjects, gesturing towards Niall. Grinning politely, he waves. “I’m Louis, by the way.”

Niall reaches his hand up for him to shake. “Niall. Good to finally meet you!”

Harry snaps his head towards his roommate, his eyes wide in alarm. He glares at Niall, tamping down the urge to push him down the hill. Niall winks quickly at him.

“Yeah,” Louis chuckles weakly. “Uh… good to meet you too.”

Right as Harry is about to suggest that they all go down the hill together, Louis’ roommates walk up to them.

“Bebe!” Niall exclaims. He stands up and hugs her.

“You know each other?” Louis asks confusedly as he looks between the pair.

“Yeah! We’re in the same macro econ class,” Bebe explains. “God, that exam was such shit, right?”

Niall groans and shakes his head. As they begin to complain about their exam, Harry turns to the boy with long hair.

“I’m Harry,” he says, extending his hand. The boy gives a tight-lipped grin in return.

“This is Steve,” Louis says, his eyes cast downwards.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry offers nervously, as the back of his neck heats up despite the freezing air.

“Yeah,” Steve replies coolly, his eyes grazing over Harry’s face as if evaluating him. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Alright!” Louis says loudly, clapping his hands. “Time to go sledding!”

Harry sits down on his tray as Louis places his on the ground beside him. Steve sits down on the other side of Louis. Niall and Bebe are already at the bottom of the hill, throwing snowballs at each other.

“See ya down there,” Louis says. In the second before he pushes off the hill, he smiles at Harry.

It is one of those smiles that touch his eyes, that makes the snow around them seem dull. Harry propels himself down the hill, chasing after Louis.

Louis swerves at the last second, laying at the bottom of Harry’s path.

“Watch out!” Harry cries out, trying in vain to dig his heels in and slow down the impact. With a grunt, he runs into Louis. The force of the impact rolls them further across the field until they come to a stop, Louis sprawled over Harry’s chest.

“Shit, are you okay?” Harry asks in a panic. His hands fly up to Louis’ face, brushing his hair out of the way so that he can check for any bruises or bleeding. Louis brings his mittened hands up to Harry’s.

“Hey,” Louis says soothingly. “I’m alright.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Harry asks, his eyes darting across Louis’ body as if checking for broken bones.

Louis smiles weakly as he shakes his head.

Harry can’t bring himself to take his hands away from Louis’ face. He runs a thumb across Louis’ cheekbone. Louis closes his eyes and leans his head into his hand.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, his voice barely a whisper. He hopes Louis can hear the unspoken meaning in his simple question. Louis opens his eyes and sits up. He stares down at Harry’s supine figure. Harry feels Louis’ eyes study him, and after so long of not being the object of Louis’ focus, with the sun beaming down on them, he feels bare. He wants to look away, but instead, he holds his gaze.

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Harry turns his head, the snow crushed under cheek. He _hasn’t_ been okay, but with Louis suddenly there, the weight of him tangible and real, he thinks maybe he could be.

“I am now,” he replies simply.

Louis’ lips part as he inhales slowly. After letting out his breath, Louis brings a hand to Harry’s face, rubbing his dimple with his thumb.

“It’s good to see you,” he murmurs.

Harry lets out a sigh of relief, the weight of missing Louis lifting slightly off his heart.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he breathes.

“One of my friends is having a party tonight,” Louis tells him, nudging his arm. “You should come.”

Harry raises his brows. “Sounds-”

“-I mean, if you want. It’ll be pretty lowkey. He’s just having some people over, and-”

“Yeah, no, that sounds cool,” Harry replies, sitting up. He wants so badly to touch Louis, to hold his hand. He doesn’t know what his place is in this tentative peace, so instead he grips his dining hall tray.

Louis smiles, his eyes crinkling.

“Cool, cool,” he says, before he glances up at the top of the hill. Steve, Bebe, and Niall are at the top of the hill, making snow angels. Turning his focus back to Harry, he smirks. “Race you to the top?”

Harry clambers to his feet before breaking into a run. “Last one there gets snow down their shirt!”

“You little shit!” Louis shouts, chasing after him. They slip and slide up the hill, their arms flailing as they try to keep their balance. Just as Harry is about to collapse at the top of the hill, Louis grabs onto the bottom of his coat. Louis launches himself onto Harry in a tackle, laughing loudly.

“I win!” he declares, rolling on top of Harry, his knees straddling either side of his waist.

“You cheated!” Harry laughs, grabbing snow in his hands. Louis, catching his sly movements, makes to roll off of Harry, but Harry is quicker. Smushing the snow into the side of Louis’ head, Harry whoops.

“That’s what you get!”

Louis’s jaw drops indignantly.

“Oh, that’s it!” he announces, gathering snow in his hands. He smirks with mischief in his eyes as he creates snowballs. Harry brings his hands up to his face in self-defense. He yelps in surprise as Louis buries the snow inside of his coat before he begins tickling him.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry!” Harry shrieks as he gasps in laughter. He grabs onto Louis’ wrists before throwing his body weight forward and rolling them over. With Louis’ wrists pinned to the snowy ground beneath them, he feels his smile freeze on his face. Louis’ face is flushed pink, his eyes bright in contrast to the white snow around them. Their chests heave together as Louis lips part.

“Um,” Louis whispers, looking at his wrists.

The trance broken, Harry lets go of his wrists and sits up quickly. Laughing nervously, Harry adjusts the bomber hat on his head.

“I would’ve won the race, if someone hadn’t cheated,” he says casually, his voice sounding too bright and loud in his ears. Louis chuckles and punches his shoulder lightly.

“It wasn’t cheating, it was just strategy,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

Harry glances over at Louis only to catch him smiling softly at him, and in that moment, a thrill of hope shoots through his heart.

\--

Although they have until Tuesday to vacate the dorms for winter break, they both started packing that Saturday afternoon after their sledding excursion. Niall’s father was going to pick him up the following morning, but Harry’s mother wasn’t available until late on Sunday evening.

Packing for winter break fills Harry with a wistful sense of sadness. As more and more of his floormates go home, his dorm floor sounds muted and empty. When he looks back on his first semester, that first weekend feels like a lifetime ago. He thinks of the field that he and Louis ran through, the night air still warm against their skin, now covered in snow.

He wonders if next semester will be another chance for them. Maybe this semester was just the beginning, and January will bring them another start. He wonders what Louis looks like in springtime, when the trees around them burst into color.

He is broken from his thoughts when a t-shirt hits his face.

“Haz!” Niall shouts, waving his hand in front of his face.

“What?” Harry reacts, startled as he drops the pair of jeans he had been holding in his hands.

“Distracted, huh?” Niall smirks, as he shoves a sweater into his suitcase. “So, where are we going tonight?”

Harry refolds the pair of jeans and places them in his suitcase.

“One of Louis’ friend’s,” he answers.

“Ooh! Alright!” he exclaims, as he wags his eyebrows.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shut up, man,” he replies as his cheeks turn pink.

“So, how come I haven’t heard about this guy until recently?” Niall asks. He gives up packing and instead flops down onto his bed, suitcase discarded on the floor.

Harry shrugs. It isn’t that he meant to keep Louis a secret. He never even saw Louis on campus, probably because their majors were housed in different buildings. He didn’t know that much about Louis or what he did to fill his days, outside of class and the random parties they would both attend. Every time they met, Harry credited it on luck and good timing. He knows that he would never intentionally hide Louis away like a secret.

“We aren’t together, I guess,” he explains. “We just… hooked up a few times.”

Niall raises his brow. Harry looks at him before realizing that that was his cue to keep talking.

“And, I don’t know. I thought it didn’t mean much. I mean, I guess maybe it doesn’t, because I don’t really know what it all means-”

“What do you want it to mean?” Niall asks, taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. He offers some to Harry, who shakes his head.

“I didn’t think much of it at first. I mean, I thought he was cool and fun,” Harry explains, “But that was it. Until it wasn’t. But by then-”

“You caught feelings, huh?”

Harry sighs, dropping a hoodie into his suitcase.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“Okay, so what was the problem?” Niall asks, the bottle of whiskey still in his hands.

“We stopped running into each other,” Harry says, taking the bottle from Niall. Wincing from the burn, he continues. “And then when I tried texting-”

“Wait. You were texting _Louis_ all those times?” Niall asks, sitting up straighter.

Harry nods. “Yeah, why?”

“Me and Liam thought you were just texting some random booty-call,” Niall smiles. “We didn’t think it was actually someone you cared about!”

“Why would you think that?” Harry asks, his brows furrowing. “I wouldn’t just call someone just to hook up… with… them….”

His voice trails off as he finishes his sentence, and with dawning realization, his jaw drops open.

“He was more than that,” Harry mumbles. “I would’ve been happy just to hold his hand.”

Niall rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“That’s really sweet, Styles.”

“Maybe he didn’t want that though? I saw him this one night, dancing with some-” Harry suggests, looking to Niall for an answer.

“Look, dude,” Niall begins. “I saw the way he looked at you today, all those awkward glances. You guys need to just…”

Harry holds the bottle of whiskey halfway to his mouth, waiting for Niall to finish his thought.

“We need to what?”

Niall runs a hand exasperatedly through his hair.

“Get your shit together, Harry!” Niall says, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from him.

Harry lets out a desperate laugh. “I’m trying my best here!”

Niall grimaces as he swallows the whiskey. He hands the bottle back to him.

“That’s what I wanna hear!” he says, slapping Harry on the back. “I can make myself scarce tonight, if you need-”

“Shut _up_ , Niall,” Harry says, rubbing his face in embarrassment, though he feels a smile grow on his face.

An hour later, they trudge up to the address Louis had given him earlier, the snow-covered ground slowing their journey. There are people milling around in the narrow driveway to the side of the house, huddling together as the smell of weed wafts through the air. The sound of people laughing mingles with the muted boom of music from inside. Harry can see dim lights shining through the living room window. Knowing that Louis is inside the house and is waiting for him to arrive makes him feel like he is slipping, sliding, falling helplessly on the icy ground below.

Niall must sense his hesitation because he glances over.

“Last party of the semester!” Niall shrugs as he elbows him. “Let’s make it a good one!”

Harry kicks the snow on his boots against the welcome mat which reads “Be Nice or Go Away.” Smiling softly at the sentiment, he takes his hat off and shoves it in his coat’s pocket. The main space of the house is crowded but not chaotically so. Music is blasting from what Harry assumes is the basement, and as he sees people emerge from the staircase with cups of beer in their hands, he guesses that the keg is there too. He glances around the room and sees unfamiliar, albeit friendly, faces, but Louis is nowhere to be seen.

“Downstairs?” Niall asks, pointing towards the doorway leading to a staircase. Harry nods, and they weave their way through the crowd.

The music gets louder the further down the steps they go. The feel of the party in the basement is a drastic contrast to the mood upstairs. Here, people are shouting at each other competitively as they rush through a game of flip cup, while in the other corner of the room, throngs of people are dancing, their bodies writhing in time to the pulsing beat. Harry remembers how Louis moved in the center of the dance floor, the yellow caution tape clinging to his gyrating hips, and he tries to spot Louis in the cluster of people to no avail. Turning around, he looks at the people lined up on either side of the long table playing flip cup, their fingers gripping their cups in suspense as they wait their turn to chug their beer.

Just as Harry is about to rush back upstairs in hopes of finding Louis, a familiar voice calls his name.

“Yo, Harry!”

He spins around quickly, his beer sloshing over the side of his cup. Louis is walking zig-zaggedly down the steps, his one hand clutching a bottle of beer while the other holds onto the railing. His eyes are hooded and red. Upon seeing Harry, Louis’ lips turn up in a lazy smile.

“Hey, you,” he mumbles as he walks up to Harry. He nuzzles his face in Harry’s shoulder. Taken aback, Harry wraps his arm around him slowly. He brushes his lips against Louis’ forehead and catches the lingering scent of weed in his hair.

“You alright?” Harry asks. He steps back, smiling nervously as he takes in Louis’ clearly inebriated state.

Louis nods and waves his hands dismissively.

“Now that _you’re_ here, baby?” Louis asks, stepping even closer to Harry. “I’m great.”

“Looks like you’re having fun,” Harry remarks.

Louis notices his mostly-full cup and narrows his eyes.

“It looks like _you_ need to catch up!”

Harry shakes his head. For some reason, he wants to be in full control of his senses. Being around Louis again, possibly for the last time until next semester, makes him want to remember each moment.

“I don’t want to forget anything,” he confesses. The end of the semester feels like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds until they’re weeks away from seeing each other again. He feels braver because of this.

Louis glances curiously at him, his blue eyes scanning his face as if checking for a lie.

“You…” Louis murmurs. His fingers brush against Harry’s arm before they come up to rest on his face. Louis drapes his arms over Harry’s shoulders and begins swaying.

“‘Cause I don’t wanna miss a thiiiiiing,” Louis sings loudly, throwing his head back. “‘Cause even when I dream agaaaaain-”

“The sweetest dreams will never do,” Harry joins in, beaming as he laughs at Louis’ sudden serenade. He wraps his arms around Louis’ back and pulls him close.

“‘Cause I’d still miss you, babe,” they sing. “And I don’t wanna miss a thing!”

Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, his lips a breath away from his neck.

“You smell so nice,” he sighs. “You smell so nice, and you feel so nice.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, his eyes closing as he runs his hands up and down Louis’ spine.

“And you’re so nice, Harry!” Louis adds, before his brow furrows. “I mean, I think you are. I _hope_ you are.”

“I try to be,” Harry says lowly. “I wanna be the nicest for you.”

Louis looks up at Harry and sighs. Harry can feel his hands start to slide down his chest before they drop to his sides. Louis’ eyelashes fan across his face as he stares at the floor. He is still swaying, and although Harry knows that he is unsteady because of the alcohol and the weed, the part of him that can't help but long for Louis wants to believe that he is just dancing to an inaudible song playing just for them.

“You could’ve texted me,” Louis mumbles, dejectedly.

“I did. A lot!” Harry protests as he gently pushes the fringe off of Louis’ forehead. His mind flips back to the countless messages he sent, left unanswered. He vaguely remembers falling asleep on some random house’s steps after leaving Louis a voicemail. Despite Louis’ aloof reaction to him, Harry can’t bring himself to feel resentful in any way. He just wants to hear the smile in Louis’ voice when they talk and see the way he throws his whole head back when he laughs, as if his body can’t contain the force of it.

“Yeah, but only to hook up with me!” Louis shoots back, his face scrunched up in anger. Harry wants to kiss away all the lines and furrows until his face is smooth with peace again. He wants Louis to feel how much he missed him and how little he cares about anything beyond just being able to be by his side. He shakes his head and pulls Louis closer, his hand cradling his head against his cheek as they sway.

Leaning down to whisper in his ear, he murmurs, “I don’t care about that, I swear.”

Louis shakes his head and pulls back from Harry, a smirk on his face. “You’re full of shit, Styles.”

Harry pulls him closer and begins swaying again. They are out of synch with the rhythm of the song blaring from the speakers, but he keeps their dance going.

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m being honest!”

Louis looks towards the ceiling as he laughs, his mouth lolling open drunkenly. “So, you mean to tell me that if you come over tonight, and we just go to sleep-”

“Nothing would make me happier, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry tells him. And as he thinks of Louis, warm in his arms as he blinks his eyes open in the morning, he knows that he means it. He wants to see Louis when his hair is sticking up straight in every which-way direction, and he wants to feel his breath against his back as his arms snake around his waist. He wants to give chaste close-lipped kisses because of inevitable morning breath, and he wants to feel Louis’ lips against his in between bites of breakfast.

“Let’s go then!” Louis decides, nodding his head assertively. “I’m tired.”

Harry’s eyes twinkle as he shakes his head. “But I just got here!”

“Shots,” Louis replies, tugging Harry up the stairs. He continues, his head glancing over his shoulder, “Let’s do some shots, and _then_ , babe, you can walk me home.”

Knowing that he’s hopeless for Louis and that he’ll do anything that the boy asks him to do, Harry just takes a swig from his cup and follows him up the stairs to the kitchen, where they find Niall.

“Hey!” he exclaims, slamming his cup on the counter with gusto. “It’s Louis! And Harry!”

Harry bites back a smile and tries not to roll his eyes at his friend’s inability to be subtle. Beside him, Louis beams and wraps an arm around Niall.

“You’re Harry’s roommate, right?” Louis asks.

Niall nods his head, a wide grin spread across his face.

“And you trust him,” Louis says, in a half-question. His eyes bear into Harry’s with a gravity that comes from more than just the weight of intoxication. He turns back to Niall, expectantly.

Niall nods once more. “With my life,” he responds earnestly. “Harry is a good guy.”

Louis glances at Harry again before stepping closer to Niall again and whispering into his ear. The wide grin on Niall’s face softens into a smile. When Louis steps back, Niall replies quietly to him, his words inaudible from where Harry is standing. Louis considers what Niall says and then nods.

Turning back to Harry, he continues nodding. “Okay,” he tells him. “I wanna go home now.”

Harry grabs his hand again. “No more shots?” he asks.

“I think I’ve had enough tonight,” he shakes his head, giggling as he leads him out by the front door and into the bitingly cold night. Clouds fill the night sky, obscuring the stars with a diffuse red tint, as they carefully walk, hand in hand, to Louis’ house.

“I got drunk because I was afraid,” Louis begins. A breath later, he adds, “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up.”

Harry cocks his head towards him. “Of course I’d be here,” he replies. “I’ve been wanting to see you for weeks.”

“Yeah?”

Harry looks over at Louis, who is clutching tightly to his arm. His blue eyes, still full of questions, stare openly at him.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Harry says slowly, hoping that he doesn’t muck it up again with his graceless words, “... it took me awhile to understand.”

Snow begins to fall as Louis stands before Harry, his words sinking in. His eyelashes catch some of the snowflakes before he blinks them, and all the lingering questions, away. When he looks up at Harry again, his face wears a smile that starts with the crinkles by his eyes.

“Walk me home?” Louis asks, his voice tinged with hope. Harry wants to make him feel so sure of him that he no longer has to question and hope but instead can spend his time just _knowing_. And so, with hands shaking not from uncertainty but with the cold of the snowy night, he holds gently onto Louis’ face and draws him close.

“Anywhere,” he murmurs, before nudging Louis’ nose with his own.

Feeling Louis’ breath hitch, he closes the distance between their parted lips. As Louis’ lips glide against his own, he wonders how he managed to go so long without this. When he thinks about the parties where he ended up going home alone, after a night of searching every face for those eyes, he does not mourn the absence of other people’s lips against his. Others’ would feel out of place, just a fleeting warmth, unlike the solid and sure presence of Louis pressed against him. Just as it had the night they had met, the thrill of possibility fills Harry’s chest once again.

They wander back the two blocks to Louis’ house, their journey interrupted by Louis’ giggles as Harry kisses up and down his neck and across his face. The snow is falling at a quickening pace as they finally reach Louis’ front door, his walkway already covered in a few inches of snow. Despite Harry’s clumsy legs, Louis is still the more unsteady of the two as they amble up Louis’ front steps.

“You should probably sleep this off, Lou,” Harry says gently, his mind as clear as the crystalline snowflakes falling around him. If anything else is to happen between them, he wants Louis to want it the way he does- with full clarity.

Louis furrows his brow and waves at the street behind them.

“And have you walk back to campus with your baby deer legs?” he scoffs. “Babe, if you want to be a gentleman so badly, you can sleep on the couch.”

Harry grins and rubs his thumb over Louis’ mittened hand again. “You sure?”

Louis shakes his head as he tries to hide his smile.

“Christ, you’re killing me,” he mutters, as he pulls Harry down into a kiss. As they kiss, he unlocks and opens the door behind him, and they stumble into the warm house, snow falling from their coats as they discard them quickly at their feet.

They make their way back to Louis’ room, the short walk taking longer as they are pushed against walls and doors, their lips and hands reacquainting themselves with one another. When they are finally in Louis’ room, the sounds of their breathing fill the air. The dim light of the lamp on the bedside table covers them in a soft glow.

Louis lays down on his bed, his skin bare for Harry to drink in again. Harry sits on his haunches, as his fingertips hover and dance over the lines of his collarbones, trailing down the hairs on his chest and down his stomach, to the V of his hip bones. Louis tenses up in anticipation before Harry shakes his head.

“Tomorrow, baby,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up again. They hold Louis’ face gently as he places a kiss on his eyelids, which have drifted shut. “Tomorrow, when you’re as sure as I am.”

Louis kisses Harry’s nose and blinks his eyes slowly open.

“You’ll stay?” he mumbles, sleep overtaking his senses.

“‘Course,” Harry replies. Grinning, he adds, “And not just because I’m afraid to walk home in the snow.”

Louis punches his arm halfheartedly before sitting up slowly.

“We gotta brush our teeth,” he says, determinedly.

Louis’ night routine of splashing his face with water, brushing his teeth, and gargling mouthwash while humming ridiculous pop songs makes Harry laugh deep from his belly as he uses his finger and some toothpaste to scrub at his teeth. He pretends that he’s a zombie as he chases Louis around the small bathroom, foam falling from his slack lips.

And when they fall to bed a short while later, they feel exhausted but happy, the smiles slowly fading from their faces as they huddle close beneath the blankets. They, like the snow outside, keep falling.

 

**The next morning**

 

Harry wakes up to the steady rise and fall of Louis’ chest against his back, his arm thrown over his waist. Blinking his eyes open, he lets out a yawn, his arms outstretched over his head. Behind him, Louis stirs, pulling Harry closer as he nuzzles the space between Harry’s shoulder blades. Harry relishes in the feel of Louis’ being so close to him as he brings Louis’ hand up to his lips and kisses it softly.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice low and scratchy with sleep.

He feels Louis shake his head as he seems to burrow his face even further into the space between Harry’s back and the bed.

“Too early,” Louis mutters. “Go back to sleep.”

“But it’s,” Harry begins, checking the time on his phone, “Almost ten!”

“Too early,” Louis repeats, withdrawing his arm from around Harry’s waist and using his hand to cover his eyes.

“You’re not a morning person, huh?”

“Obviously not. Keep up.”

Harry breathes out a giggle as he turns over to face the other boy. As minutes pass, the rise and fall of Louis’ chest becomes steady and his hand slowly falls from his face. Harry gazes at him as he sleeps, noticing the constellation of freckles on his face, the scar above his eyebrow, the way his lashes fan across the tops of his cheeks. Rays of sun peek in through the parted window curtains, casting shadows on his face. His fringe falls over his eyes, rising slightly with each exhale that emerges from his slightly parted lips. Harry gently brushes his hair off his forehead, taking extra care not to wake him.

 _Sleeping beauty_ , he thinks to himself.

“Stop staring at me,” Louis mumbles incoherently.

“I’m not staring!” Harry protests, though he knows he has just been caught red-handed.

Louis peeks an eye open, his brow raised.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he replies, a smile crawling onto his face.

Harry nuzzles his forehead, kissing it softly. “I can’t help it,” he murmurs. “You’re beautiful when you wake up.”

Louis rubs his eyes before he opens them fully. The sunshine reflecting off the white walls only serve to make his eyes look even bluer as he stares back at Harry.

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling as his cheeks flush a pale pink.

“The most beautiful,” Harry confirms, kissing across his cheekbones and jawline until finally, he arrives at his lips.

A moment later, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

Louis nods, pulling Harry on top of him. He trails his lips down Harry’s jaw, biting softly at his neck. Harry moans as his head falls onto Louis’ shoulder.

“Good,” Louis breathes. “Glad I stopped when I did.”

Harry mouths at Louis’ neck before he kisses him, and although their mouths taste sour with sleep, Harry continues delving deeper into each kiss. Louis’ legs part as he arches his back. The heat between them rises as he licks into Harry’s mouth, tugging Harry’s bottom lip in between his own. Louis grinds his hips up against Harry, his ankles pulling him closer until they writhe together, friction building to a frenzied pace. Louis reaches down and pushes at the waistband of Harry’s boxers, whimpering desperately against Harry’s lips. Gasping for breath, Harry pulls back to look at Louis again.

“Yeah?” he asks, his simple question loaded with meaning.

Louis nods quickly, pulling him back down into a kiss.

They are tongues and teeth and gasps of breath, hands grabbing hold of each other, of headboards and sheets. They are sweat and tears, pleas of _more_ and _there_ , and cries of _yes_ and _yes_ and _yes_. They are incoherent words and sounds as they move against and inside, together again after weeks of searching and missing and _wanting_. They fall against tangled bedsheets, blankets kicked to the floor, their bodies hot as they slide together, fingertips ghosting across skin and gripping tight enough to leave bruises, yet soft in the words unspoken between them that scream that they just want the other one near, closer, and closer, and closer.

They ride out the turbulent waves which leave them wrecked on the shore together, their limbs entangled and lips barely a breath apart. Louis runs his hands softly through Harry’s hair before resting on the dip in his waist.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, avoiding looking at Harry, suddenly shy, despite what they had just done.

Harry tilts his head up as he cradles Louis’ face in his hands.

“I missed you more,” he says.

“Not true,” Louis shakes his head, smiling softly as he gazes at him.

“You calling me a liar, Tommo?” Harry asks, his fingers pausing on their journey up and down along Louis’ back.

“Maybe I am,” Louis goads, his eyes narrowing as he smirks. “So what if I am?”

He pushes Harry onto his back and rolls over so his torso is draped over him. Harry reaches up and plays with Louis’ hair, making it stick up in every direction.

“You should know,” Harry says simply, “that everything I’ve ever said to you has been the truth.”

Louis grins. “Like when you told me that I’m beautiful like snow?”

Harry blushes and hides his face in his hands. “I’m embarrassing,” he groans. “But yes. You are.”

“Or when you told me that it’s been only me?”

Harry removes his hands from in front of his face. Louis’ smile is frozen on his face, the warmth of it not quite meeting his eyes as he waits for Harry’s answer. Harry rubs his thumb across his cheekbone, not sure what else he could do to show Louis that he has been honest in every attempt to reach him.

“Yeah, Louis,” he replies simply.

“You didn’t want to sleep around? Have the full Freshman Year experience?” Louis inquires, sitting up now in Harry’s lap.

Harry furrows his brows as he shrugs. “Why would I?” he answers. “I met you that first week, and I still can’t seem to shake you.”

Louis smiles softly as he shakes his head. He lays back down on top of Harry, his head resting on his chest.

“Did you…” Harry falters. “Was there anyone else?”

Louis’ fingers stills in their journey up and down Harry’s torso. He sits up before he answers.

“I couldn't… I tried, but I just…” he murmurs. He shakes his head as the smile slips from his face. “I didn't give you a chance. But I should've.”

Harry cards his hands through Louis’ hair as his words sink in. He feels a twinge of sadness thinking about all the time they missed.

“Why didn’t you give me a chance?” he asks quietly. “I texted you for weeks, but you never… and then, at that party, you just ran away from me...”

Louis sighs as his fingers rest on the place above Harry’s heart. He lays quietly for awhile, and Harry wonders if this is where Louis tells him that they need to take a step back and slow things down. “ _Neither_ _of us really have much time for anything serious,_ ” Louis’ words echo in his mind.

But then, Louis begins talking.

“I didn’t want to be on standby, just waiting for you to feel like sleeping with me. I didn’t want to just be the guy you called for a good time.”

“But that's not-” Harry interrupts.

“I’m getting that now,” Louis continues. “But I didn’t know that then.”

Harry thinks back to all those late nights he reached out to Louis, and he knows what it probably looked like to the boy in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he intones. “I just wanted to see you. I didn’t care what we did.”

“It’s okay-”

“No,” Harry interjects firmly. “I should’ve taken you out properly. Dinner and a movie! Ooh, or pumpkin-picking!”

“Do you even have a car?” Louis laughs softly.

Harry pokes his side. “I would’ve found a way. The school has a bus route that takes people around town.”

“Yeah, to Target!” Louis snorts, leaning on his elbows to look at Harry.

“Then, I would’ve taken you to Target!” Harry shoots back. He leans up to kiss Louis gently. “I wanna take you everywhere. Anywhere.”

Louis’ smile softens on his face as he sighs again. “You’re sweeter than I gave you credit for.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I was just using you,” Harry responds. “It took awhile for me to realize what I was feeling.”

“I mean, I could’ve been better too.”

“What stopped you?”

Louis shrugs. “You’re a hot freshman. You could’ve had anyone you wanted, and I guess I was just scared that I was… one of many.”

Harry shakes his head. “Other than that one guy who was a bad kisser-”

“You probably broke his heart, leaving with me instead of him that night-”

“Yeah, he’ll be okay,” Harry laughs. “But besides him, Lou… it’s just been you. Always you.”

Louis lays his head on Harry’s shoulder and starts to giggle as he looks at Harry with wide eyes. “Look at us, communicating so openly.”

“Communication _is_ the key to any good relationship,” Harry says, nodding empathically.

“And is that what this is now?” Louis asks softly. Harry turns on his side so that they’re face-to-face again.

“I’d like that,” Harry replies quietly.

Louis bites back a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Harry exclaims exasperatedly, kissing Louis firmly as he pulls him on top of him again.

“I want this,” he continues, his words interrupted by the press of Louis’ lips against his. “I want this all the time, everyday.”

And after Louis cooks him a breakfast of frozen waffles and bananas, and Harry checks the bus and train schedules between their hometowns, and after they make out some more on Louis’ couch (“Steve and Bebe left yesterday for break. Relax, babe.”), and after they bundle up and make snow angels on the front lawn, Harry holds Louis’ face in his hands as they stand in the barely-shoveled walkway and kisses him.

“I’ll visit you on your birthday,” Harry tells him.

“That’s on Christmas Eve, Harry. Spend it with your family,” Louis protests, even as he grips him closer.

“Then I’ll see you on the 26th… or the 27th…the 28th, or the 29th…. New Year’s Eve,” he insists, kissing him all over his face.

Louis laughs, throwing his head back. “We’ll figure it out,” he assures him. “You live 2 hours away from me.”

“It's just one hour if I can borrow my sister’s car,” Harry grins.

“Or if I can get my mom to lend me her minivan,” Louis smiles mischievously. “We can put the seats down.”

Harry’s eyes widen as he bites his lip. “You’re a menace.”

“I know,” Louis replies breezily. He tucks his face into Harry’s neck, as they hug in the cold winter sun. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Harry kisses Louis’ forehead. “I feel like I just got you back, and now we’ll be apart again.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Louis repeats, smiling fondly at Harry. “I’ll call you back this time, I promise.”

After one more kiss, slow and lingering, Harry pulls away and starts walking down the sidewalk, the snow crunching underneath his heavy boots.

“Let me know when you get back to your room,” Louis replies. “I wanna make sure your Bambi legs get you there safely.”

Harry shakes his head fondly, as he looks at Louis one more time before he goes.

“I’ll be seeing you, Louis Tomlinson,” he murmurs, smiling softly.

 

**Spring Semester**

 

Harry cradles the large cup of tea and a bag of bagels in his arms as he sits in the back seat of his mother’s car. A box of doughnuts sits beside him, the plastic film glinting from the reflection of the white-gray January sky. His mom and sister are sitting up front and singing in harmony to some sappy love song. Harry is typically a fan of love songs, romantic movies, and trite quotes about relationships, but on this morning, he feels even more attuned to the sentiment.

Winter break passed slowly. The long days spent at home were a relaxing balm to Harry’s mind after the difficult first college semester he endured. But after a few days, restlessness took over, and Harry wanted nothing more than to be in Louis’ company again.

“Happy birthday,” he had murmured, smiling as he held his phone to his ear. He laid on the twin bed of his childhood bedroom, wondering what Louis’ room looked like.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Louis greeted, his voice warm to Harry’s ears despite the distance between them. “Having a good break?”

“It’d be better if you were here,” Harry answered, blushing at his lack of subtlety. He reasoned that he had been too subtle in his feelings for Louis all semester, and now that they had both laid their cards out on the table, he didn’t want to hold back anymore. The holidays always seemed like a good opportunity to start anew, and things with Louis, although still in their nascent stage, felt like they were on the verge of blooming.

“You’ll see me soon enough,” Louis replied.

And Harry had seen him, just a few days later. He spent a long afternoon in Doncaster with Louis, the hours filled with talking, their hands entwined. Harry had loved seeing the way Louis squinted into the afternoon sun as he showed him around the small city and the way their shadows grew long with the fading light. It had felt like such a contrast to the pitch black of the nights they had spent together. As the afternoon turned into evening and then into night, they sat together, shoulder to shoulder on the Tomlinson’s living room couch. In an attempt to gain some semblance of privacy in the crowded home, they spoke for hours with hushed voices, making up for lost time.

“If money were no object, what would you want to do with your life?” Louis had asked, their feet propped atop the coffee table. Christmas music still played in the background, Louis' youngest sister and brother playing with their new toys a few feet away on the floor.

Harry considered his question as he sipped at his hot chocolate.

“I think,” he began, “I’d want to be a music historian.”

Louis raised his brows and turned towards him, a wide grin on his face. “Have you seen those history of metal documentaries?”

And three episodes later, after Louis had informed Harry that he would want to be a poet, Harry laid with drooping eyes with his head in Louis’ lap.

“You sure you don’t want to stay over?” Louis offered. “I can sleep on the couch, and you can take my bed?”

“I’d rather you sleep in it with me,” Harry grinned, winking conspicuously.

Louis shushed him, quickly glancing at his mom who was sitting on the recliner a few feet away. Although she seemed to be paying more attention to some random game on her phone, Harry knew that if she was anything like his mother, she had ears like a bat.

“Quiet, you,” he chided, trying to hide his smile.

“I can be quiet,” Harry replied, his torso shaking with silent laughter.

Louis groaned as he shook his head. “Why do I like you again?” he asked.

“Because I’m a hot freshman?” Harry suggested, his voice low and teasing. He nuzzled his face into Louis’ neck. “And because of my excellent attempts at wooing you.”

Louis kissed the top of Harry’s forehead, breathing in deeply before he sighed. “Yes, that must be it.”

It was thirty minutes later when Louis’ mom told Louis to “Quit flirting with your boyfriend, so he can drive home!” and fifteen minutes after Harry and Louis made out against his car that Harry was finally on the road back to Holmes Chapel. Louis had helped keep Harry awake on his way back by telling him embarrassing stories about his first two years of college, about what he wants to do with his engineering degree, and his biggest fears. And when Harry got home, he kept Louis on speaker as he got ready for bed, and when he was under his covers, he told Louis about how his sister is his best friend and about his hopes and dreams.

He told Louis that he could see himself falling in love with him one day, if Louis would let him keep hanging around.

Louis had just said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I could see that too.”

The last couple of weeks of break were spent with both of them going on vacations with their families, and before he knew it, Harry was packing his suitcase for the Spring semester.

Just like the buzz that had vibrated through his skin on the first day of the Fall semester, Harry’s stomach is tied in knots as they approach the campus. Although they had spoken nearly everyday, the thought of being able to see Louis, to touch and smell and hear him in person, brings a lightness to Harry that feels at odds with the gloomy winter day.

“I’m almost here! Come over?” Harry texts him. When he looks up, he catches Gemma smirking in his direction.

“Are you texting your boyfriend?” she asks teasingly in a sing-song voice.

“Shut up, Gem,” Harry answers, hiding his phone. His mom smiles at him in the rearview mirror.

“You know, love, Gemma and I haven’t really had a chance to explore your campus,” his mom says. “Maybe you could show us around before we drive home?”

Harry glances at the tea and the bagels in his lap as he tries to figure out a way to escape them so that he can have his breakfast date with Louis. He looks up when his mom and Gemma start laughing.

“Relax, Haz,” Gemma giggles. “We won’t cockblock you!”

“Gemma!” his mom scolds, though she herself is laughing.

“Some other day?” Harry suggests apologetically. “Maybe when it’s nicer out?”

His mom parks the car in the lot closest to his dormitory.

“Maybe next time we can meet Louis,” she replies, turning back in her seat to look at her son.

Harry smiles, thinking about how well Gemma and Louis would get along, imagining Louis talking to his mom over a cup of tea in the morning.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, opening the door.

After they help him bring his things up to his room, he walks them to the elevators. They insist that he doesn’t need to walk them back to the car, and after repeated hugs and promises to call, they leave.

Ten minutes later, Harry hears a knock on his door. Practically running across his cramped dorm room, he flings the door open.

Louis stands there, his beanie pulled low over his head, the smell of winter air fresh on his skin. His lips curl up into a smile as he steps closer to Harry.

“Hey, cutie,” he murmurs, taking Harry’s hand in his.

Harry responds by pulling him closer, Louis’ smile pressed against his as they kiss. Stepping backwards into the room, they make their way through the ramshod obstacle course made up of Harry’s suitcase, desk, and chairs. Eventually, they fall onto Harry’s bed, Louis’ head resting against Harry’s chest.

“Missed me?” Louis asks, looking up at Harry. Before Harry could answer, he spots the box of doughnuts and bagels on Harry’s desk. Sitting up, he asks, “Did you bring me breakfast?”

Harry sits up and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist.

“Well, since I don’t have a car and can’t take you out on a breakfast date, I figured we could eat here?” he explains.

Louis turns towards him, his smile fond. “A breakfast date?”

Harry nods. “And then we can go on a lunch date, an afternoon snack break date, and a dinner date. Anything.”

Louis kisses his dimple. “What about our Target date?”

“That too,” Harry says, his smile growing wider as he thinks of all the things he wants with Louis. He wants to see him when he is tired from studying and when he is light with relief after big exams. He wants to go for walks with him along the edge of campus and stumble home with him in the middle of the night after wild parties. Harry wants to see Louis in the light of day when the campus trees explode with flowers, and he wants to see him when only the moonlight shines through the window, in those moments before sleep finally takes him. He wants to run through fields with him hand-in-hand, like they did the night that they met, and see his eyes light up, until they can’t run anymore.

“Okay,” Louis replies, grabbing the bag of bagels. “I’ll hold you to it, Styles.”

“Anywhere you want,” Harry says. “I want everything with you.”

Louis stops to glance at Harry, a sesame bagel in his hands. “Everything?” he questions, his voice soft.

“Everything,” Harry nods.

“Anywhere?” Louis asks, putting the bagel down on the desk. He moves back closer to Harry, climbing onto his lap.

“Long as I’m with you,” Harry murmurs.

And when Louis dips his head to kiss him softly, Harry’s hands hold him closer. The feel of Louis in his arms again quiets the racing beat of his heart. The restless itch that has lived beneath his skin’s surface during the weeks of winter break finally subsides. In the quiet of his near-empty dormitory floor, the bagels and the doughnuts are left unattended, and the tea goes cold.

With the January sunlight filtering in through the windows, they melt in a kiss, again, and again, and again, and again.

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt was "We casually hook up at parties sometimes but this time you got so drunk you couldn’t make it all the way back to your dorm so i let you crash in my room because it was closer and it turns out you’re really cute when you wake up in the morning, fuck." I took some liberties with this, but I hope whoever sent this prompt is pleased!
> 
> Thank you so much to G for cheering me on when I wrote this, and for R for being my grammar beta!
> 
> I'm on [ tumblr ](http://kinglouisxxviii.tumblr.com)!


End file.
